


exit wounds

by anelderling



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Outsiders (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Character, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Native American Character(s), No Incest, Past Drug Addiction, Past Rape/Non-con, Racism, Romani Character, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 92,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anelderling/pseuds/anelderling
Summary: If there was one constant in their unpredictable lives, it was this: Roy Harper could never miss, and Dick Grayson could never fall. Or, the one in which Roy returns to Dick’s life – assuming that he still has a place in it. / Merged Pre-Reboot, New 52 and Rebirth continuity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time a little noob picked up some American cape comics and was very confused as to why Dick Grayson and Roy Harper have never been in a relationship with each other. I mean, come on.
> 
> I was going to set this in a Canon Divergent AU where Flashpoint never happened ~~as the Lord intended~~ at first but then it occurred to me that I might want to write other stories set in this same universe and I wouldn’t get to use Emiko Queen or Duke Thomas. Unacceptable. So I merged Pre-Flashpoint, New 52 and Rebirth canon and ignored the whole reboot part of it altogether.
> 
> Of course, that means abusing artistic license to the max and reinventing a lot of established canon. For instance: in order for Roy being a part of the Outlaws to make sense, I have to make it so that, instead of Deathstroke’s evil Titans and the thing with the Methuselah whatchamacallit, Roy remains nothing but a mercenary after the events in Rise of Arsenal. That way, he can still plausibly get into that whole shebang in Qurac, land his ass in jail, and get busted out by Jason. Also, since no Flashpoint means no Convergence, Lian has to stay dead.
> 
> So basically this story is set in a universe where Flashpoint never happened, but some of the events of the New 52 and Rebirth are still a thing. However, those events have been embellished in order to fit in with Pre-Flashpoint canon. Because of that, most references made to canon here are either going to be intentionally vague, or some adapted version of events. Hence the Canon Divergence tag.
> 
> As for where that leaves the characters’ origins and established history up until the reboot, I just picked and chose which parts of canon to consider canon for each one. No one likes Morrison’s Jason or Bruce discovering Dick at thirteen instead of nine or that one flashback from Titans Vol. 2 about how the original Titans ~~of all people~~ never liked Roy, anyway, right? Call it Earth-E or something.
> 
> In light of all of the above, I guess it goes without saying that this fic is set in an ambiguous timeline. Chronology, what chronology.
> 
> We good? We good. Onwards!

**now**

The little diner with the red and white walls, tucked between a news-stand and a record store, was nondescript at best, and, at first glance, so was the man sitting in the booth at the very back of it.

To be fair to the handful of customers helping themselves to its mediocre cuisine, they did like to mind their own business. That was, after all, the best way to keep out of trouble in Bludhaven. Moreover, the man didn’t seem worth paying that much attention to: red hair, attractive, but not extraordinarily so, the build of somebody who had lost and regained weight in a short amount of time, and a glint of metal from inside one of his jacket’s sleeves, visible only to those who bothered to look. Neither of those last two things being all that unusual after the things the city had suffered, no one did.

The waitress brought him his coffee, and he gave her an acknowledging smile. One of his hands curled around the mug while the other caught his reflection on its rust-coloured surface. Staring back at him, his green eyes looked both anxious and resigned. The waitress, who had noticed his aforementioned conventional attractiveness, wondered why someone like him would ever have been stood up. Then she cleared her next table and forgot all about it.

Fifteen minutes later, the bell above the door chimed twice: someone opening and then closing it. _This_ person, people did look at, although mostly as surreptitiously as possible. Sun-kissed skin, brilliant, uncertain blue eyes, and a long black coat, scarf and winter gloves that gave him away as someone richer than the diner’s usual clientele. He paused at the doorway, glanced around, and once recognition had lit his eyes he made a beeline for the booth at the very back.

There, the redhead half stood, shocked and relieved. “Dick,” he said, while the other man slipped into the seat opposite him. “I was starting to think you left the address as a prank.”

Which was a ridiculous thing to say, and they both knew it, and neither tried to point it out. Dick smiled, too practiced to be awkward. “I’m not you, Roy.”

“Thank God for that,” Roy answered.

He settled into his seat, taking a half-hearted sip of his coffee. The waitress shuffled over for Dick’s order and stole second glances over her shoulder as she walked away.

The text that he had sent his childhood friend the night before had only read: _I know it’s been a while and things have been complicated, but could we please meet up?_ without really expecting an answer or even being all that certain that Dick would still be using the old number.

And yet Dick had sent him a time and a place, and here they were.

“Roy?” Dick said his name with a decided air to it, like he was steeling himself to make a clean cut, to get something over with. “What is this about?” The waitress returned, with his coffee, and they had to wait for her to leave again. “Not that it isn’t— an, um, a pleasant surprise— to see you again, but… the last time we met wasn’t exactly… friendly, was it?”

Roy felt a lump lodge itself in his throat. Fucking _Dick_ – he always did this. He hadn’t known if he could trust Roy or if the text would lead him right into a trap, but he had shown up anyway.

“Not exactly friendly, he says.” Roy slapped on his trademark grin, scrambling for some levity to cover up the sudden emotion. “My ribs were feeling that kick for days, _Batman_.”

“Shout it to the world, why don’t you.” Dick laughed, quiet. It wasn’t only during their Robin and Speedy days that they had worn the same masks, after all.

Roy took another sip. “I, uh— do have a history of calling you up like this, whenever I needed help and all,” he said, face vaguely warm. “I guess I’m kind of hoping that things haven’t changed all that much.”

“Oh.” Except Dick said it like he meant, _Oh, Roy_. “Of course. You know that.”

“How do _you_ know you can trust me?”

Dick stared at him for a long time. In a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment of vulnerability, the mask fell away, and Dick let out a breath of a laugh, low and self-deprecating. “…I guess I deserved that.” He fell quiet. “We _have_ been tracking the Outlaws’ movements. We know you’re fighting the same fight. Maybe not in a way that the rest of us approve of, but… the same, regardless.”

Roy nodded, relieved that the conversation was finally going along the lines that he had first expected it to. When Dick said “We”, he usually meant “Batman”. Batman has been keeping tabs on you, Batman approves, I can help you now, I wouldn’t have shown up otherwise. It was easier to handle than the weight of Dick offering his help to someone he’d have otherwise been fighting against out of— well.

“Jason left me,” Roy said, which was not what he had meant to say at all. The shock of the sentence hit them both, and Roy turned away. Fog outside the window. Round blurs of coloured light were making a pretty kaleidoscope constellation against it. Roy would never have imagined that it was possible to hate Bludhaven more than he once used to, but in that moment, he did.

“…When you say… he _left_ you…”

Roy chuckled, bitter. “I can’t be alone right now or I’ll do something really, really stupid. You follow? And I didn’t know who else to call, I mean, going back to Star City… I can’t. I just can’t. Not yet. Dick…” _Please_.

He glanced up when he felt a gloved hand reaching for his. Donna’s voice came to his mind, _Dick has this way of smiling, you know, so soft, like he understands_ , and he blinked rapidly. “Come on,” Dick said, and stood.

“Where are we going?”

“My place.”

Outside, the late November air filled his lungs and cooled his bones. Dick waved for a taxi, and Roy watched its headlights dancing in the fog. They slipped inside. “You and Jason, huh,” was the first thing that Dick said.

Roy chuckled, amused in spite of it all. “Me and Jason, me and Kory. Jason and Kory too, I think? But then she left, and— well. We’re not exactly the most conventional people, Dick, come on.” But then the cab passed a sea of neon lights and he caught Dick’s reflection in the window opposite, realising that that wasn’t what Dick was asking at all. “We were there, at your funeral,” he said, whispering so the driver wouldn’t hear. “Jay… didn’t exactly seem _happy_ , is all I’m saying.”

But then, who would have been? Kory had been inconsolable, weeping so loudly that she could have given away their hiding place. Roy had felt on the inside what Kory showed on the outside.

Dick turned and gave him a half-smile, his mask clearly back on. “He punched me in the face the last time we met, Roy. I think I got the message.”

“To be fair, I think that’s just how your family says _I love you_ in general.”

“Love? Jason and me? Ha. That’s a good one.”

The cab stopped in front of a relatively tall apartment building – unremarkable, it could have been any apartment building in any city throughout the state. “I tried to weather it out on my own,” Roy was saying, following Dick out onto the sidewalk. “Couldn’t. All of a sudden, it physically hurt to be in that apartment. It was so empty, you know? Felt like… like Ollie’s place during his, uh, longer trips back then. Didn’t even stop to pack anything but my bow and arrows, I needed to get out so bad. Then I got your text and… well, I hopped the first train to here.”

“I couldn’t imagine,” Dick said. They took the elevator to the highest floor, where, predictably, Dick’s apartment was. Roy anticipated the mess even before Dick turned on the lights, and smiled to himself. Some small comfort to know that at least this hadn’t changed.

“Make yourself at home, okay? I’ll be right back.”

When he did return, Roy was flipping through channels on the TV, sprawled out on his couch. The cravings were easier to handle when he was distracted, although nothing seemed to be on that _could_. “Tim said he could cover for me tonight? Patrol can wait until the cravings pass, I figure. Bludhaven’s new now, so there hasn’t been enough time for a real threat to find some ground yet.”

Roy was too selfish to say _You shouldn’t have_. Instead, he gestured at the bowl and cloth in Dick’s hand. “What’s that?”

In answer, Dick joined him on the couch and wrung out the cloth. The first touch of it against Roy’s cheek was a shock, and not just because the water had been ice-cold. “…You aren’t going to tell me what exactly went down between you and Jason, are you,” Dick said. He didn’t sound like he expected an answer. “Does it have anything to do with these bruises?”

“Quit it, Dick, I’m fine, I saw a doctor—”

“Think about who you’re trying to kid here, Eagle-Eyes.”

Roy resisted the urge to sigh out loud, exasperated. _Bats_. “Yes and no. But I’m surprised that you don’t know where the bruises are from. Didn’t Oracle tell you? I’m an internet sensation now, Short-Pants.”

“Are you? These look old enough that I was probably still playing dead at the time. Forgive me if I can’t keep up with every crazy thing that’s happened since then,” Dick answered, sarcastic.

“Yeah, what was with that, anyway?”

Dick stayed silent for a moment, moving the cloth, gently, over Roy’s right temple. “You remember Helena?”

“Helena… Bertinelli? The Huntress? Sure.” Dark skin against dirty white sheets, and she kissed like a riot.

“Apparently she took her teaching career to a whole other level.”

“What?”

Dick smiled. “You’re not the only one with a long story you don’t feel like telling right now.”

“…That’s fair,” Roy conceded, returning it.

“You should stay. As long as you need to. I don’t have a guest room here, but I can take the couch, no problem.” Dick dipped the cloth again. “I don’t sleep much, anyway.”

Roy had been about to protest that he couldn’t take Dick’s bedroom, but the statement caught him off guard. Something like panic almost overcame him. He searched Dick’s face for signs that things had been getting bad again, and found none.

Then again, all of his screw-ups whenever the two of them had been almost-a-thing would attest to the fact that he’d never been the expert on reading Dick, not like Wally or Donna were. “So, Bludhaven’s sure got some nerve, huh,” he said, hoping that it wouldn’t sound too obvious that he was fishing.

“Hmm?”

“I mean, out of all the things this crapsack of a city could have rebuilt itself as after it got obliterated and shit, it had to go and pick some motherfucking daydream of a Cyberpunk Vegas,” Roy explained. “At least Gotham’s honest.”

“Yeah,” Dick said absently, his concentration on dabbing at Roy’s arm with the wet cloth.

“You know, one of the first things I learnt on the rez was that poisonous creatures are usually the most brightly coloured. It’s nature’s version of a stop light.” Roy used his free hand, his metal hand, to nudge at Dick’s chin. “Makes me wonder what kind of poison the city’s hiding this time around. And… why it needed Nightwing back.” _You’re okay, right? Tell me you’re okay._

Dick held the eye contact, unflinching. Then he smiled, soft and rare, a _real_ smile and not the usual patented Dick Grayson Is Never Not Okay So Don’t Ask smile. Roy’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Dick chuckled. “You weren’t the only one who had been hoping that things wouldn’t have changed all that much between us, is all. I’m glad.”

“…It just… scares me, whenever I find you alone.”

Something in Dick’s eyes changed, and Roy realised he’d said too much. They were coming dangerously close to things that neither of them were ready to bring up again, so he broke his gaze, forcing his smile to be nothing more than casual. “So, uh, what’s in the water?”

“Doesn’t have a name yet. It should numb all of those and hopefully speed up the healing process.”

“Oh, okay.”

“…I’m here because I couldn’t help but feel responsible for this city, Roy,” Dick answered the question that Roy hadn’t asked. “And I’m not alone. Gotham is a stone’s throw away, and I’m— old enough now to know better than to be too proud to ask for help this time. If I needed it.”

Roy nodded, even though the unease from earlier hadn’t disappeared. He wanted to ask if Dick would still count Arsenal in his definition of “help” but he didn’t dare open his mouth again. In the silence, Dick kept up his gentle caress with the cloth across Roy’s hand. Half unable and half unwilling to stop himself, Roy turned his palm up, Dick’s fingers now trapped in his. They watched the cloth fall to the ground. It felt like the slightest eye contact could end the world.

“…In my language, there are no words to say _I’m sorry_ ,” Roy whispered. And then he half-laughed, not quite ready to drop the façade. “There’s a running joke that the Navajo will never let go of a grudge because of that, you know.”

Dick didn’t pull his hand away. It was trembling ever so slightly. “I don’t think there are any in my language, either. Unless you meant _I’m sorry_ like condolences.” He fell silent. “But we do say, I forgive you, and may God forgive you as I do.”

The lump in Roy’s throat threatened to spill over. He laughed, fingers tightening around Dick’s, voice a little wetter than he would have liked it to be. “Overkill.”

Dick laughed, too. It didn’t sound amused. His other hand hesitated, reached over, and cupped Roy’s cheek. Their eyes met. “It’s been too long, Speedy. You have no idea how good it is to see you again.”

Roy blinked rapidly, forced himself to grin and roll his eyes, but still couldn’t bring himself to let go of Dick’s hand yet. “Aw, shucks, Robbie. Don’t you get all sentimental on me.”

Neither of them said _I missed you_. But Dick shucked his shoes away and pulled his legs up onto the couch, curling them underneath himself, and Roy leaned in close enough toward him that he ended up with his head on Dick’s head and Dick’s head on his shoulder. And neither of them made the first move to pull away.

Roy closed his eyes against the memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief introduction is brief. The coming chapters are going to flesh out their relationship more, both past and present.
> 
> Donna’s comment about Dick’s “soft smile” is canon. It’s from some issue of Titans Vol. 1, I forget which? Also, in case you’re new to original Titans lore, the nicknames are also canon – Robin, Speedy, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Wonder Girl; also known as Short-Pants, Eagle-Eyes, Twinkle-Toes, Gill-Head, and Wonder Chick. Classic.
> 
> If you liked it, please leave kudos, bookmark the thing, and type up a comment to let me know. You can also subscribe so that you don’t miss updates.
> 
> DickRoy is a rare-pair and therefore I need friends to scream about it with. Follow me on Tumblr (anelderling) and start a chat. Peace!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t want to tag the past relationships and implied relationships of this verse with the main relationship because I, personally, hate it when side pairings clog up a main pairing’s tags page, so I’ll list them out for you here instead – JayRoyKory, DickWally, DickBabs, DickKory, RoyDonna, WallyDonna, RoyJade, RoyKendra, RoyHelena, DickHelena, DickShawn, and a few purely sexual relationships that Roy has had that I won’t bother mentioning.
> 
> The first scene is set during Rise of Arsenal #4.
> 
> Onwards!

**then**

The sudden light of a flash grenade illuminated the midnight sky, startling Roy in his tracks. The surprise only lasted for all of fifteen seconds, however. He waited patiently for the black dots to fade from his eyes and he opened them, grinning, half-hysterical.

“I heard you killed him.”

Somehow, the sight of Dick standing there in Bruce’s cast-offs, an air of defensiveness around him that really shouldn’t be around “Batman” at all, seemed funny. Roy had to resist the urge to laugh. He was certain that if he did, he would break down crying. “Shouldn’t you be helping Ollie, then? Instead of wasting your time trying to take me in for doing something that none of you cared enough to do for her?”

“I’m not here to take you in. Roy, I—”

“ _If you’re going to say you loved her too, at least take the fucking cowl off, Dick!_ ” Roy yelled, and now he really did sound hysterical. “Take it off and look me in the eyes!”

Dick hesitated. And that was the icing on the cake, wasn’t it – Dick _hesitated_. Roy felt his fingers twitch – for a knife, to throw a punch, to grab him by that stupid Bat-symbol and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. When it finally came off and familiar blue eyes met his, however, Roy felt the fight leave him. He was tired. So tired. He wanted his daughter back. He wanted a home. He wanted the pain in his arm to stop and he wanted Dick to not be Batman. “Out of my way,” he said, hoarse.

Dick only took a step closer. “Roy, don’t do this.” Soft, gentle, pleading. “Don’t shut us out. Let us help you.”

“Don’t shut you out? I’m hearing this from _you_?” Roy’s laugh sounded almost startled out of him. “Pot, meet kettle. Fuck off. Let me go.”

“But _where_ are you going to go? What are you going to do? Your life is here, your family and friends are here— _Lian_ is buried here! And— the heroin, it isn’t completely out of your system yet, you need—”

“Don’t you tell me what I need,” Roy hissed. “I _need_ to feel my daughter in my arms again. I _need_ to turn back time and keep her safe, like I should have been doing all along! If you can’t give me that, Dick, let. Me. Go.”

“I can’t.” And now Dick was right in front of him, gripping his arm in desperation. “Roy, you loved me at my worst. I can never pay you back for that. But you have to… you have to let me try. Please.”

The vulnerability, the openness in Dick’s eyes should have been too little, too late, but Roy was weak at the moment. And if he was being honest with himself, he was always weak around Dick. He saw Lian, cradled in Dick’s arms, as lovingly as Roy would have held her himself… _Roy Harper, I’d like to formally introduce you to your daughter_ … and even though those days were gone, Nightwing was gone, Lian was gone, there was still… _he_ was still…

“Come with me.” The words left Roy as smoothly as if he had meant to say them all along. He watched them settle in Dick’s eyes, now wide with horror. His grip on Roy’s hand was slackening, and Roy knew that it would fall. “You know that I loved you, and God knows – _I_ know… you know… – that I can’t— I didn’t— I never stopped. I don’t know how. Dick, please. Forget Batman. Forget Gotham. _Come with me_.”

Dick stared. “…You… can’t know what you’re saying, Roy…”

“ _Yes I do, Dick, stop fucking patronising me!_ ” Roy cried. “What does it matter!? What does any of it matter!? What are you still doing this for!? We fight to protect their daughters and I… _still_ … had mine taken… how is that fair, huh!? How!? I should have been with her and you know it! And instead I was _safe_ in the fucking Watchtower, playing hero for other people’s children— while mine… while she…”

He swallowed away an attack of hysteria, eyes bright as he met Dick’s. “We say that we do this to make the world a better place, but are we? Every day we go out in our uniforms— but all we ever seem to accomplish is to drag out worse and worse and _worse_. What’s the point!? We’re not the real fucking heroes here! Look at me! Look at _you_! Why are you still doing this!?”

“Because I took a _vow_ —”

“Don’t you dare give me that bullshit about duty. There are a million other ways that you could be paying him back what you feel you owe him than jumping off rooftops dressed up like a giant bat and you know it!” Roy gripped him tighter. “You say that you’re not driven by the same kind of vengeance that he is— was— and yet _here you are_ , standing in his place! If the only reason you’re doing this is your loyalty to Bruce, then that means this is _his_ city and _his_ mission and _his_ cape and _his_ cowl! It’s not your fight, Dick! Just fuck it! Come with me!”

“You don’t know what you’re asking from me!”

“But I do! God, I do! It’s the only thing I have ever asked from you!” Roy pleaded. “To leave this life and let me _love_ you!”

Silence. Roy’s chest was heaving with every breath that he took, like a man drowning. Dick looked lost and terrified, in a way that he hadn’t looked since he had taken on the mantle of the Bat. Turbulent emotions in his eyes chased each other, panic, pain, love, love, love – and his grip on the cowl in his hand tightened. “You’re right,” he said, and he sounded hoarse, like he had been crying. Which was ridiculous, because Roy had been the one screaming out the violence of his feelings at the night. “I _am_ doing this because of my loyalty to Bruce. My _father_ , Roy.”

And Roy felt the desperation, the conviction that if he only fought to have Dick by his side, everything would somehow turn out _alright_ , abandon him. Like everything and everyone else.

“His city needs me. Damian needs me… I have a responsibility to my family, something that you would have once understood.” Dick shook his hand free. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Roy stared at the distance between his hand and Dick’s hand, numb. He swallowed. “…Then get out of my way.”

This time, Dick listened. Roy took a step past him, a second one, a third, and then— “What are you going to _do_ away from us, Roy…?”

He turned, giving Dick a bitter smile. “The only thing I know how to do. Fight. …Isn’t that sad?” And then, just to be cruel: “Why don’t you go home, and put my name on your list of people you couldn’t save?”

He watched as Dick’s face crumpled and let the pain of it stab him right through the heart. Then he turned. He kept on walking.

* * *

**now**

Of course, Roy had expected the first thing he saw when he woke up to be the discoloured wet patches on the ceiling at the crappy basement apartment that he and Jason shared. _Had shared_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully. So when he finally blinked his eyes open and saw, instead, a row of neat wood panelling, he felt his heart attempt a triple somersault. It hadn’t been a dream. He was at Dick’s place.

He sat up on the couch, surprised when a blanket that he was pretty sure hadn’t been there the night before pooled around his waist. “Dick?” he called, and when no answer came, he figured it was alright to explore.

He got to his feet, stretching. The apartment as a whole was relatively unremarkable – cream walls, brown tiles, and varnished wood here and there; upscale but not yet heir-to-a-billion-dollar-fortune level luxurious. There was stuff _everywhere_ , of course, this being Dick, and only the kitchenette looked untouched.

Roy peeked into what seemed to be the bedroom, since its door was open, and took in the framed pictures on the walls. One was a family photo that looked more like a family _portrait_ from an older time: all the Wayne boys, minus Jason, in their impeccable suits, and Cassandra in a simple black gown. Then a clipping from a newspaper: “Flying Graysons Bag Guinness World Record”, with a picture of a smiling young couple beneath the headline.

On Dick’s bedside table, the pictures looked more personal. There was a close-up of Barbara Gordon, smiling up to her eyes. One of Dick, with his arm around Tim, a dog sitting between them. Another of a much younger Dick – around eight, nine years old, maybe? – held in Bruce’s arms at Disneyland, pointing excitedly at something off-camera.

Roy couldn’t see the photo of the Titans – the very first one that they had taken together – that he himself still had a copy of somewhere back in Star City. But he chalked it up to the distance, reluctant to enter Dick’s bedroom without him knowing, and gave up scanning the room for it.

Eventually, his exploring found him at a door underneath which the cement hadn’t been painted over, tiled, or carpeted yet, leaving a clear, metallic floor. “Dick?” he said, pushing it open. It led into a training room of sorts, and Roy tilted his head up automatically. As expected, Dick was balancing upside-down on the rings. “Oh, hey. Good morning,” Dick said, casual and effortless, like he felt no strain at all up there.

“Morning.” Roy arched an eyebrow, amused. He waited for Dick to jump back down and smiled. Dick’s tank top was soaked through with sweat, and Roy looked, unable to come up with a good enough reason not to besides that it had been a while. He knew that Dick could tell, and when their eyes met, Dick’s were shining with something nostalgic.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” he said. “And if you’re about to ask to come with, so help me, Harper, I will feed you nothing but cheese while you’re here. Because that’s what you would be. _Cheesy_.”

Roy laughed, unabashed. “Eh. I could deal. I’m actually kind of hungry.”

“There’s food in the microwave. It isn’t Jason’s cooking, but…”

Roy’s laugh fell away, and he tried not to wince. The reminder hurt something fierce. Dick’s eyes softened and he took a step closer to Roy, playing with his collar. “…Sorry. Listen, look around in my closet, okay? I still have some of your things.”

Roy smiled stiffly. “Yeah? Awesome. Thanks, Boy Wonderful.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be out in a minute, do you want, after me…”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Okay.”

He left, leaving Roy to his own devices, so in the remaining half an hour, Roy took Dick’s advice and went hunting for his old clothes. Found and set aside a pair of cargo pants and a black shirt with a green Great Frog logo on it, wolfed down half of what tasted like leftover pasta, and then took up the couch again, watching TV without really watching TV. Dick returned, towel around his neck, and casually slipped the plate and fork from Roy’s hand.

“What are we watching?”

Roy pointed the remote at the screen, turning it off. “Nothing.”

Dick raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, fork still in his mouth, and Roy laughed, helplessly charmed. “So, what do you do with your day? Got a day job?”

“I did.” Dick sounded half-hesitant, half-sheepish. “Volunteered at an ex-villain support group, believe it or not.”

“…No.” Roy stared at him. “And then what happened?”

Dick shrugged. “Let’s just say there’s a reason you should never date your co-workers.”

He didn’t elaborate, concentration on his food, so Roy rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the stomach. “Come on, Short-Pants. Spill. You know _my_ dating history for the past two years.”

“…That means nothing, you had limited options. And apparently, you managed to exhaust both.” Dick laughed. Still, he settled into the couch and sucked in a breath. “I don’t know, it was no big deal. Her name was Shawn. She was… amazing. We started to fight too much, she left. No big deal…”

 _For you or for her?_ Roy didn’t ask. Instead, he nudged Dick again. “And?”

“And, what?”

“Just Shawn?” Roy tilted a corner of his lips up in half a grin, mischief in his eyes.

Dick scoffed, unimpressed. “Helena, for a while.”

“Huh.” Roy blinked. “Thought for sure that was never going to happen again.” He paused, hesitating, and then, in a careful voice: “No boyfriends?”

Dick shook his head no. “Not since you. That’s— if you count that.”

Roy smiled, then stopped himself, deciding that a change of subject was needed before the pleased feeling inside him could grow any more intense. “Right. And what about Barbara?”

Dick set his plate down without finishing what was left of the food. “What about Barbara?” he echoed, something guarded in his voice. “Can we talk about something else?”

So the two of them were still on the “off-again” stage of their on-again, off-again relationship, then. Roy felt relieved, and then guilty about feeling relieved. “Sure. So— no day job, at least not currently, huh.”

“I’m looking.” Dick shrugged. “There’s nothing that I really want to do. Except maybe join the force again.”

Roy stared at him, alarmed. Catching the look in his eyes, however, Dick laughed, a little wry and a little amused. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Learned my lesson the last time.”

There was a steadiness in his voice that Roy had to admit was reassuring. Dick was in a good place, he realised – Dick _had_ been in a good place, since Damian. Funny how having a child to look out for could centre you like that, he thought, and felt nothing more than a slight twinge of melancholy at the memory of Lian. “I always figured the Bat-brat would be living here with you. Met him the last time we were in Gotham, though. At the manor.”

“I know,” Dick answered, nonchalant. “I was there.”

Roy frowned. “You were? And you couldn’t even come out to say hi.”

“I…” Dick paused and gave him a helpless shrug. “I mean, I did talk to Jason. I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t—” He cleared his throat. “I did, live with Damian for a while. And then… we lost him, and… by the time he came back, we were supposed to have lost _me_. And anyway, it’s good for him to be with his father. Good for Bruce, too. He needs to learn how to deal with the only real kid he has.”

Roy hesitated, unsure whether to address the abrupt change of subject or the _real kid_ part first, and in the end settling for neither. He grinned instead. “Sure helps with the stress, too, huh.”

Dick laughed, running a hand through his hair. “God, tell me about it. Listen— I love that kid, I do, and he _is_ a good kid at heart, he really is— but it takes the patience of a saint to live with him sometimes, I swear.”

Roy laughed along with him. “Good thing he had the next best thing, then.”

Silence. Roy froze, realising what he’d just said. Before he could open his mouth again and dig himself into an even deeper hole, though, Dick bent to lift the plate he had left on the ground and walked off into the kitchenette with it. Mortified, Roy stood and shot after him.

He wordlessly took over the utensils where Dick had been about to place them in the sink and started to wash them himself. It was admittedly a task to make sure the water didn’t hit his metal arm too often, but if there was one thing that Roy had learnt in over thirteen years of knowing Dick, it was that Dick coped with hurt in only one way: by pretending that it wasn’t there. It was why his brothers and people who didn’t know him too well seemed to believe that he was always calm, always patient, always bright.

A saint. Shit. Why did he have to say that?

But Roy – and Wally, and Donna, and Garth – had always known Dick best. He might be a performer, through and through, but they were the one handful of people in his life who would always see through the act, no matter how practiced. And they always dealt with it in one of two ways: either let Dick have his fantasy that he was _fine_ and play along with it; or push.

If they pushed, he would lash out. Roy didn’t feel up for a shouting match just then. He figured it was best to save the apologies for some other time.

“…So, uh, I think I’m ready for the update on what’s been going on with… everyone… since I left, now.”

Dick leaned against the counter beside him, smiling with some scepticism. “You don’t sound sure.”

Roy laughed without humour. “No, really.” Mumbling, in a rush: “How are they?”

There was steady encouragement and pride in Dick’s eyes when he glanced up to meet them. “Yeah, Ollie’s doing great, as far as I can tell. Dinah, too. I heard that Mia’s starting to think about retiring Speedy for a while, going to college. And Connor’s fine.” He laughed a little. “That thing with him and Kyle? It’s an actual thing.”

Roy blinked – once, twice – then grinned, from ear to ear. “Called it! I _totally_ called it. Man, I should’ve bet on it with—” _Mia_. He felt the guilt about how he’d treated his sister the last time they had met choke him. It didn’t matter that he had been mourning, he had crossed a line and he knew it.

Dick cleared his throat. “Um, so, Roy…?”

“Hmm?”

A pause, Dick tucking a strand of his hair behind one ear in a familiar, self-conscious gesture. “I figure you’re going to find out from the news or from social media soon anyway, so you should know— there’s a new Red Arrow now.”

Roy stared, certain he had heard wrong. “There’s a what?”

“A new Red Arrow.”

“…Who?”

“It’s a long story.” Dick hesitated. “Oliver’s half-sister, apparently.”

Roy stared some more.

“Look, I don’t know all the details,” Dick said, sympathy in his voice. “Her name is Emiko. She’s just a kid. I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard good things.”

“…And here I thought that after the Outlaws, nothing would be able to surprise me anymore.”

Dick snorted. But he seemed relieved that Roy was taking the news in stride. “Please. Talk to me when more than one member of _your_ family has died and come to life. Multiple times.”

“Yeah, but you’re Bats. You’re weird. The Arrows and Flashes are supposed to be the semi-normal ones,” Roy reasoned.

Dick laughed at that. “I will never understand why all of you insist on calling us Bats when at this point we’re, like, eighty percent Bird. Oh, and speaking of which, Bruce and Selina— Catwoman got engaged.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah. I might have a new little brother.”

Roy set the plate down absently. “…Whoa. Did Bruce propose before or after that news?”

Dick blinked, then laughed, startled. “No! God, no. Selina? Could you imagine? No, his name is Duke Thomas, and— okay, he wasn’t _technically_ Robin, but, at this point, I’d be surprised if Bruce doesn’t have adoption papers ready for every new kid that he drags into the Bat-cave. You know?”

“Oh, sure, and then leave Alfred to raise them all.” Roy shook his head. “ _Man_ I missed out on a lot. Please tell me the others have been doing something sane, at least?”

He didn’t have to elaborate on who he meant, of course, but for some reason, Dick avoided his eyes, at that. Roy felt a spike of anxiety assault him, terrified that something had _happened_ and he hadn’t been with them. But then Dick gave him a careful, nonchalant shrug. “I don’t really know, actually. I haven’t heard from Garth in a hell of a long time. Donna’s doing her photography thing, I think? Wally… was off-world for a while, so…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. A thought occurred to Roy then, worse than the idea that something had happened to them. He stared at Dick and prayed that it wasn’t true. “Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“…Where’s the picture of us?”

Dick still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What picture?”

“Robbie, _the_ picture. You don’t keep it on your bedside table anymore?”

Dick shrugged. “I stopped. It’s not safe, I mean, we were all in uniform there, and— now that everyone went public except me, I thought, why keep it around, if it could compromise my secret identity…”

“So use another picture. Out of uniform. We have plenty.”

Dick shook his head, frowning, stubborn. Roy felt his heart go cold. “…Oh, fuck. Oh, Robin, no…”

For a split second, Dick looked like he was about to attempt bravado and brush it off, but then he caught the look in Roy’s eyes and his own turned too bright. He buried his face in his hands. “I couldn’t, okay?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit…

“How long have you been, uh, back from the dead?”

“…A few months.”

“And… they don’t know that.”

Dick pushed the hair back from his face, closing his eyes. “They know. It’s common knowledge at this point, they have to know. I just haven’t been in touch with any of them since, is all.”

Roy resisted the urge to grab Dick by the shoulders and fucking shake him. “But _why_?” He knew that Dick could go through dark moods where he felt like he had to hide his troubles from even them, his closest friends, but he seemed to be in a good place. It didn’t add up. “Oh, my God, Wally is going to kill you. And I mean kill you _dead_ dead. What the _fuck_ , Dick?”

“I said I couldn’t, Roy, drop it.” But Roy didn’t, just stood there, silent and waiting, until Dick caved. “I just— look, when I went back to Gotham, no one exactly took it _well_ , okay? I mean— Tim and Jason were furious, and Babs _still_ won’t talk to me. So sue me if I got a little…”

 _Scared_ , Roy realised. He was _scared_ of how the Titans would react. Dick Grayson. _Scared_.

“Jesus, Dick. You realise that the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be, right? I mean, they were probably _at your funeral_ …”

“Not you, too,” Dick hissed, turning abruptly, his voice going the slightest bit shrill. “See? This is exactly why I didn’t tell them myself. I’m sorry, I’m tired of all of you blaming me for something that—”

He cut himself short, but he didn’t really need to finish. “…Something that… wasn’t your fault?” Roy whispered, realisation dawning. “All of it— faking your death— it was Bruce, wasn’t it? Bruce made you do it.”

“Oh, here we go,” Dick muttered darkly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you always do this! You and _them_.” Dick snapped. “You always make Bruce out to be the bad guy! You’re all— you’re biased—”

“You’re goddamn right we’re biased. Someone has to be,” Roy answered, firm. For a fraction of a second, it seemed to catch Dick off guard, and he looked pained, struggling against accepting genuine love from anyone, as always. Then the mask fell back in place. Roy refused to back down. “You would kill yourself for him, Dick, and apparently that’s not even hypothetical anymore. Look, we like Bruce well enough, Wally and I have both been on the League, in case you forgot. But excuse us for not being okay with _that_.”

Dick said nothing, turning away from Roy with pursed lips. Sighing, Roy made a show of drying his hands off, waiting for the tension to leave the air. “Did the move to Bludhaven have anything to do with your, uh, not so enthusiastic welcome back to Gotham?”

He could see the defensiveness leaving Dick’s body, hesitant at first, and then all at once. Dick could be such a child sometimes. It made Roy’s heart ache, a surge of affection welling up inside him. “…Damn you, Harper,” Dick mumbled. “I always say too much around you.”

“You love me,” Roy reasoned, with a teasing, casual shrug. It wasn’t an answer, but at the same time, it was. Roy followed that thought to its inevitable conclusion. “So you didn’t just invite me to stay here out of the goodness of your heart.”

Dick sighed, tired, like the burst of anger from a moment ago had drained him. “You realise that I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about?”

Roy opened his mouth, ready to say, _You were lonely_ , but thought better of it, deciding to let Dick have his illusion. He brought his arms up for a hug, tentative, and when Dick inclined his head in the subtlest sign of consent Roy wrapped his arms around him almost fiercely. _You were, weren’t you?_

But he didn’t feel used. Even if Roy had learned the hard way that theirs was a cruel life, he liked to believe that it wasn’t so far gone that the Dick Graysons of the world ever had to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Roy’s Pre-Flashpoint design better than his more metrosexual one in current canon, don’t you? Just for your imagination: Roy is larger than Dick in this story’s universe. @ DC give Roy his muscles back, you cowards.
> 
> Kudos, bookmarks, comments and subscriptions are appreciated! My Tumblr is anelderling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DC is all over the place when it comes to its characters’ official ages but I have noticed that the preferred version for the Titans’ ages in fanfiction is usually Young Justice canon where Roy and Wally are apparently older than Dick. For this fic, I’m going with the one established by The Cheshire Contract and other old comics – that the original Titans are the same age, that is.
> 
> Having said that, there is a scene in this chapter where Dick and Roy get together for the first time, and they are both under 18 (like around 15, 16 or so). I kept the making out as innocent as possible and things won’t escalate any further than that until they both grow into proper consenting adults, but still. Be aware.
> 
> The final flashback is a scene from Teen Titans Vol. 1 #19. Also, according to Pre-Flashpoint canon, Dick is half-Romani from his father’s side, but I chose to go with the Rebirth version instead for this story – the one where Dick’s mother is the Romani immigrant – because I feel like Raptor’s comment about Mary and her “itchy feet” has the potential to be more significant to Dick’s character.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

He may have been trained by the World’s Greatest Detective, but there were still mysteries that took their time in explaining themselves to Dick, and his feelings for Roy Harper were one great example.

It was about a week after Roy had essentially moved in with him that he finally figured it out. Arsenal and Nightwing had been on patrol together several times, by then, so Dick had no problem with Roy walking up to him, a mug of coffee in his hand, while he read through the files that Oracle had sent.

“You working on a case?”

Dick hummed his agreement, accepting the coffee with a grateful smile. “Yeah, nothing big. I think the owner of Rubble might be embezzling funds, and I just need concrete proof.” Rubble was one of the casinos that had popped up all over this new incarnation of Bludhaven.

Roy found a seat next to him, and turned Dick’s laptop in his own direction. “Here – I might be able to help with that.” He had apparently picked up some new skills while he’d been gone – “I’m, like, the Hardware Oracle now,” he’d declared with a wink and a grin – and Dick was only too happy to let him put them to use. The steady clack-clack-clack of keys filled the room while Dick sipped at his drink, and, partly because the atmosphere felt welcoming of it and partly out of habit, he lifted his feet up and draped them across Roy’s lap to rest.

Roy stiffened, turning his eyes to them and then back up to Dick’s face, a question and maybe a little hope in those twin greens.

Dick stared down at his legs, contemplative. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested. There had been something between him and Roy since they were kids, and they were both currently single, and Roy was… well, if he could be honest, Roy was good for him. He had a patience that had always been lacking, in Wally. His support for Dick was constant and vocal, something that Barbara and Kory could lose sometimes. And there were times when Roy needed Dick the same way. They complemented each other; they just… worked.

But…

Roy had stopped typing. He tilted his head to one side, a question, and when Dick said nothing he leaned forward. Stopped. Kept leaning.

Immediately, the vague sense of panic overcame Dick again. Maybe it was because the last time that he and Roy had been together – or a semblance of it – life had thrown Dick every possible reason to panic and so the sensation and their relationship would always be incorrectly linked, or something. But Dick thought of those times, and the only feeling it brought was tenderness for the person who had stubbornly loved him when Dick himself hadn’t been able to stand his own face in the mirror.

Roy’s lips were so close to his, now. He wanted this. He didn’t want this. He scrambled to find a rational explanation for either one.

“…Jason,” was what he finally said.

Roy stopped. He blinked, and then he backed away, frowning in confusion and disappointment.

Which was a good enough reason, Dick thought, tucking a strand of his hair behind an ear. Roy talked about Jason the way that he used to talk about Barbara, after all. “My _brother_ , Roy,” Dick explained, voice soft. “Our relationship may be… complicated… but if you think I’m about to let you use me as his replacement, if you think I’m going to let you do that to him, to _yourself_ …”

He watched as Roy’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and then down – a hard swallow – and then Roy turned his attention back to the laptop, a half-hearted smile on his face. “…It isn’t about that, and you know it.” He shrugged. “Could have just said _no_. I listen, you know. The word means something to me.”

Dick closed his eyes to shove away the immediate onslaught of memories, wet tiles and lipstick stains and _don’t touch me don’t touch me_ , shivering.

“Hey.” Dick looked and met Roy’s smile, more natural now. “I’m not going to hold it against you. We’re friends first, and _then_ the, uh, other thing. Right?”

“Yeah.” Dick smiled back, genuinely apologetic. When Roy leaned in this time, it was for nothing more than a simple kiss to his forehead, platonic and so sweet that Dick swore it almost brought tears to his eyes.

That was when it hit him. That smile, the way that Roy so casually brushed aside Dick’s rejection, so casually talked about Jason, even though it was clear that Jason had been _significant_ … Dick remembered, at last, where he had felt this kind of panic before. A long time ago.

He must have been about five years old when he first started asking his father for the story about how he and his mother had met.

“She blew in with the carnival wind,” John Grayson would always say, a nostalgic look in his eyes, and he’d never explained further. Dick had been young, should have accepted it at face value, like some kind of fairytale. But he hadn’t. Even then, it had occurred to him that the line sounded incomplete, one half of a familiar song.

“She blew in with the carnival wind.”

It sounded like it should have been followed by, “And the carnival wind, it took her away.”

* * *

**then**

Dick was ninety-nine percent certain that this was what it felt like to be drunk. Not that he knew – or ever would know – but it had to be. Swinging off the side of a hotel building by a grappling hook, dressed in his civilian clothes, with Roy Harper, next to him, casually jumping onto the closest window ledge and then making quick work of the lock with his pick— Dick felt wonderfully exhilarated. He wondered if this was how Roy lived all the time.

“Roy Harper, you are every bad decision I have ever made,” he hissed as he followed the boy in question into the empty hotel room. But there was a laugh under his voice, and he knew it. Roy must have heard it as well, because he only stepped closer with that maddening grin of his.

“Baby, I’m the _only_ bad decision you have ever made,” he whispered, taunting. “But tell me it wasn’t worth it.”

…Which Dick couldn’t, of course, so to shut him up, Dick leaned up and pressed their lips together. His inexperience made it feel clumsier than when Roy had kissed him first, back at the party. Dick had only ever been kissed once before, after all – as Robin, by a girl who called herself Wily Wendi, long story – and that had been quick, simple, innocent.

Roy, on the other hand, was anything but quick. Or— God— innocent, for that matter. At least he was also an enthusiastic teacher, as it turned out.

Once Dick had calmed down, some, from the excitement of it all, he registered that Roy was also being surprisingly gentle. Dick had his back pressed against the wall, arms curled around Roy’s neck, and Roy’s lips against his felt soft, purposeful but never pressing. Even Roy’s hands on his waist weren’t gripping so much as holding him as if he was something precious.

Neither of them had expected the evening to turn out this way. In retrospect, Dick was more surprised by the fact that he had never bumped into Roy at an event like this before tonight, more than anything else – considering that they were both wards of billionaires who moved in pretty much the same circles.

It was New Year’s Eve, and the hotel was playing host to what Dick liked to call a rich-people party, still determined not to group himself with their ilk, no matter what Bruce and Alfred said. He had been as reluctant as ever to go, but with school out for the holidays, he didn’t have the excuse of homework to stay back at the manor. So he had followed after Bruce, expecting nothing more than another evening wasted on at best condescending and at worst racist a-holes who would inevitably want to poke and prod and marvel at Bruce’s shiny new possession even though Dick had been his ward for close to seven years now.

What he hadn’t expected was for them to bump into Oliver Queen and Roy, the second of whom looked as surprised to find Dick there as Dick was to find him. The surprise quickly evolved into delight, however, and Roy had then immediately whisked Dick away with nothing more than a “Hi, Mr. Wayne! Bye, Mr. Wayne!” in Bruce and Oliver’s direction.

After that… a lot of laughter and small talk, careful to be vague about things concerning their other identities and the Titans. “The real party is upstairs,” Roy had said with a conspiratorial wink. “For us to get away from the losers – I mean adults.”

More laughter. True to his word, Roy had then led Dick up to another suite, where everyone nineteen and under was apparently having a party within the party – except with heavier music, and more smoke. Had introduced him to a blur of people as one of his best friends, Dick, no, really, don’t call him Richard, it’s Dick.

And then they had found a couch in a corner and Roy had held out two beer-bottles, one presumably for himself. Dick had shaken his head politely, and Roy had raised an eyebrow in response. “What, is Dick Grayson too good to party?”

“Dick Grayson doesn’t drink,” he had corrected, which only made Roy look confused.

“What the hell else would you _do_ at a party?”

“…Well, there’s music.” Dick had shrugged. Smiled, crookedly. Slid away from Roy to join the crowd dancing in the centre of the room, moved to the rhythm of the bass.

He’d felt Roy’s eyes on the movements of his body the entire time. Half-overwhelmed, Dick had closed his own, really beginning to enjoy himself, and then—

Roy’s hands at his waist. Tentative at first, but growing more confident when Dick leaned back to meet Roy’s chest. He’d tilted his head up and smiled, and Roy had smiled right back. “Robbie.” A whisper, sweet, gentle. “You’re stunning.”

The temperature had seemed to rise several degrees, and Dick had twisted in Roy’s arms until they were face to face. “Is this okay?” Roy had asked.

Dick had smiled. “Yeah.”

“You really, honestly don’t drink? Like, you’re not drunk right now?”

“No.” And then, because the silence had suddenly felt loaded, “Are you?”

“…Not yet.” Dick wasn’t sure – the music had been really loud – but he thought that Roy had maybe added, “Thank God.”

Then…

It was the first time that Dick had ever kissed another boy. He’d wanted to ask if it was new for Roy, too— but Roy had apparently decided that he was against leaving Dick with enough breath to talk. “So you… hmm… you know how you always brag about wearing that utility belt wherever you go.”

Dick had nodded.

“You wearing it tonight?”

Another nod.

“Yeah? Got a grappling hook in there?”

Which was how Dick now found himself here, in an unoccupied, unlit hotel room, with Roy’s tongue moving against his in exciting new ways that did complicated things to his stomach. Roy’s lips found the spot below his ear, followed the path down his neck, and Dick closed his eyes, overwhelmed. There were stars underneath them.

He felt one of the hands on his waist pull gently at his waistband, a question. Dick let it happen, then, like an afterthought, he slipped his hand down to cover it and pulled it back up with a slight shake of the head and a smile still quivering from all the wonderful new sensations.

Obediently, Roy moved his hands to safer places and pressed one last kiss to the corner of Dick’s smile. “Need to calm down a little?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Roy pulled him by the hand up onto the bed, which struck Dick as contradictory until it clicked that he only wanted cuddling. “Jesus. How have we never thought of doing this before?”

“Speak for yourself,” Dick answered, shyly, honestly. He played with the black-and-silver pendant at Roy’s chest to avoid meeting his eyes after that little confession. “This is a Native design?”

Roy’s fingers wrapped around his. “Mm-hmm.”

“You speak it, don’t you. The language and everything.”

An incredulous laugh, not unkind. “Please. I had to _learn_ English.”

“Must be nice.” Dick meant it. Roy was so proud of his Navajo culture, so connected to it despite the colour of his skin. Dick thought with a flush of the barkeeper in Marseille, who had shut the door in the face of the Romni and her son, sorry, we’re closed, despite all the customers they could clearly see inside; thought of the social worker pushing him up to a counter, _his kind_ keep such sloppy records, doesn’t even have a birth certificate, imagine that, who knows if he’s even been vaccinated; thought of the first school after Bruce, the private school, the bullies.

He had given in. Once the media uproar over his adoption had died down, and he had transferred schools, and people had finally _forgotten_ … they would ask. Are you? I’m not, he’d say. No. I’m not.

But then there was Roy. Navajo, and proud.

“Say something?” Dick asked.

Roy seemed to contemplate it for a moment and idly ran a hand up and down Dick’s arm. “ _Shijéí t’ áá hazhó’ ó niba’ iiłkił_.”

“…Oh, that sounds beautiful.” Dick smiled, tender. “Like a fire crackling. What does it mean?”

Roy paused, gave him half a grin. “That’s a secret.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Dick’s head. “It would put me in a very compromising situation if you ever found out, Boy Wonderful.”

In the years to come Dick would remember parting his lips, but not what he had been about to say. Maybe he had meant to press Roy for the meaning of the words. Maybe he’d wanted to ask for a promise – that this would remain, between them, after that night, even when they were with the Titans.

Whatever it was, he never got to say it. The door opened, and left Bruce and Oliver to stare incredulously at their wards tangled up in each other.

* * *

**now**

“—Which means that we’d need to have the actual, physical ledgers if we want to prove that it’s a scam,” Roy was saying. He turned to see if Dick was listening, and frowned. “Um, did you—”

“Yeah, I got it.” Dick gave him a little nod. “Too bad… we could always sneak into the casino later and find them, I guess. If he even keeps them there.”

Roy made a noncommittal sound. He reached for the mug that Dick had abandoned on the table and downed what was left of its contents. “So, uh, where did you go just now?”

“Hmm?” Dick blinked; then he understood. “Oh. Nothing, I only… I remembered…” Almost unconsciously, he reached up and swiped his thumb across his lower lip. “…Nothing, Roy. Did you want some coffee?”

* * *

**then**

_He’ll call._

It had been fourteen days since the night Bruce had walked in on Dick and Roy – and had unceremoniously dragged Dick back home with an awkward lecture about “growing up” and “hormonal changes” and “protection” that still left Dick red in the cheeks; not that he had been counting – and he hadn’t heard from Roy since.

_He’ll call._

It wasn’t so strange, after all, not to hear from Roy for days at a time. Even though Roy had been there when the Titans were founded, he had made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was only going to be a part of it if the other four agreed not to pressure him into showing up regularly when he didn’t want to.

“Roy is… a free spirit,” Donna would say, with that blush that she got whenever she talked about him that made Wally upset and then mad that he got upset. “He hates commitment. You know?”

_He’ll call. He will._

Dick turned over on his bed, flat on his stomach, and stared at the telephone. He’d tried calling Roy, after that night, but Roy hadn’t answered. He considered trying again.

… _How many times counts as desperate?_

A slow kind of anger bubbled up inside him, making him think twice. Forget it. He reached for the phone and dialled Wally’s number instead.

One ring, two rings… “Hey, Dick.” Wally’s voice sounded muted.

“Hey.” Dick smiled so it was obvious in his voice. “You’re not busy, are you?”

“No, I’m good. Did you need something?”

“…No, I was just… wondering.” Dick paused. Swallowed, steadied himself. “Um, have you heard from Roy at all?” Wally had been the one to introduce them all to Roy, after all. He would know, right?

“Roy? No,” Wally answered. He sounded surprised. “Is this because he didn’t show up last weekend? You know he always does this – likes to play hard to get with us.” A laugh. Sounded forced. Dick caught that and was instantly on high alert, all thoughts of Roy forgotten.

“Wally. What’s wrong.” The words came out in what Wally would have called his “Leader-Robin Voice”, he was so scared.

“…Nothing, buddy, nothing. Um, so about Roy—”

“ _Wally_.”

A sigh on the other end. “…I didn’t mean to,” in a tired whisper. “It was just… reflex. I don’t think he remembered that he was holding a glass in his hand? And he swung, and…” Dick heard him swallow hard. “It was the glass that scared me. So I… sort of, um, I leapt out of the way. Kid Flash style, I mean. Shit.” His voice shook ever so slightly. “He… thankfully he convinced himself it was a trick of the light, he was so drunk, and the second time he swung I forced myself to just stand there and take it, but— shit, Dick, what if I’d given it away? What if I was so stupid, that I put Uncle Barry in danger, Aunt Iris— they hate her so much already, I—”

“Hush, don’t. Take a breath. Don’t do that to yourself.” Dick felt sick to the stomach. “Are you hurt?”

“…I’m fine.”

Dick smiled sadly. “You always say so.”

A trembling laugh.

“Mr. West – he still there?” Dick refused to call him _your father_. He didn’t deserve to be Wally’s father. A father made you feel safe, not scared, he thought, missing Bruce all of a sudden.

“He left. Dick, don’t hang up? Just until he gets back…”

“Of course,” Dick answered, soothing. He would have done even if Wally hadn’t asked. So many different ways to say _I love you_ … Maybe Roy didn’t, after all.

* * *

**now**

Dick stood alone by the coffee machine, mind wandering. Now that he’d made the connection between his anxiety and his mother, he couldn’t seem to let it go. He remembered Roy telling him, once, that “Roy Harper” might not be his real name. “They gave me my father’s name at my second naming ceremony,” he had explained; before that, he’d been known as “Young Brave” to his guardian, Brave Bow, and “Lost Arrow” to everyone else.

His mother’s name might not have been her real name, either. With the Cirque des Romanes, “Mary Lloyd” had been Marie, the Skydancer. And the names had changed along with the places of her employment – Mariska, Moira, Mariel. She’d become Mary for America, for Haly’s, for his father.

Itchy feet, his father had called it. Your mother’s people were perpetual fugitives, unwelcome everywhere. Wanderlust in her blood. She came with the carnival wind, and the carnival wind will…

“I get nightmares, sometimes,” his father had confessed to Madame Mystique, early one morning when he’d thought that Dick was asleep and couldn’t hear them. “I wake up, and Mary’s gone. And she takes Dick with her. Leaves nothing but a letter behind, writes that she loves me but she loves her freedom more.”

“John, don’t be silly.” Madame had laughed. “All that is in her past. What does she have to outrun now? And you are married! Do you know that it is impossible to tie down a hurricane like that? Still you did it. There is no chance that she will leave now.”

Madame had been the one to teach him how to read the Tarot whenever she was babysitting. “The eyes are the window to the soul,” she would tell him with her mysterious accent – something vaguely European. “And you have your mother’s eyes, _Ryeka_. You have your mother’s soul.”

Mary had never read the Tarot the way that Madame did, with her patient spreads and careful deductions. Dick would wake up in the middle of the night to find his mother in the trailer kitchen, shuffle-shuffle-shuffling, and then – _slap, slap, slap_. Three cards onto the table, sharp blue eyes drinking them in as if she only had seconds to memorise them. Then the cards would go back into their tin and Mary would slip back into her bed.

Dick would look it up when he got older, and learn that a three-card reading was for understanding a confusing dream, a nightmare.

“My little Robin.” He could still feel her fingers running through his hair. “Are you happy?”

She’d seemed to ask that question a lot as he grew older. On their last day together, Dick had just taken a picture with an adorable toddler named Tim, and he had said, off-hand, that it would have been nice to have a little brother. Mary had hugged him. “Yes, it would be, wouldn’t it.” Wistful, almost. “A home instead of a circus. Little siblings to run around the house with you. Would you like that, Dick? Dick, are you happy like this?”

 _Are you, Mom?_ he had wanted to ask. But the show was starting.

“That coffee is taking forever.” Roy’s voice brought him back to the present. He turned, directing a sheepish smile to where Roy stood at the doorway.

“Sorry, I don’t know where my head is today…”

Roy looked kind of embarrassed. “My fault, I guess. Dick…”

“Or we could also maybe do the thing where we don’t talk about it,” Dick suggested, half-kidding, but half-pleading as well. “At least not yet?”

Roy stared at him, frowning. Then he laughed, a little amused, a little pitying. “…Jesus, we’re a pair, aren’t we.” He turned to leave, then added: “Ready when you are.”

Dick watched him go, realising vaguely that the breeze blowing in from the window smelled like Mardi Gras.

* * *

**then**

Roy had shown up. Dick felt that slow anger bubbling up inside of him again, and he shoved it down viciously. A month since that New Year’s Eve, and Roy had shown up at Titans headquarters as cheerful as ever – “Greetings, group!” he was saying with his trademark crooked grin, “What’s the case you want me to solve for you now?” – Dick could hardly believe it. The actual nerve of him…

Donna looked delighted, Garth friendly. Wally gave Roy an exasperated roll of the eyes, but he was smiling, too. The ugly thing inside of Dick rose up before he could temper it again, and there was no stopping himself as he said, in a casual voice: “Your unemployment, wise-guy. Only time we ever _hear of you_ is when Green Arrow waves bye-bye on his way to the Justice League.”

Roy finally met his eyes. He looked startled. Good, Dick thought, feeling cruel. Let him have the reminder that Dick remembered _all_ of their conversations. Including the one where Roy had said a little bit too much about how, ever since joining the Justice League, Oliver would just leave without telling him, sometimes – and how scared Roy got that he might never come back…

“So?” Roy retorted, sounding hurt, as if he had any right to be. “I don’t see _Batman_ bringing you, either. Or is it just that Bat-cat doesn’t think Robin-bird can fly from the nest by himself?”

It stung – but not half as much as waiting by the telephone for a call that would never come. Still, Dick stood, ready to fight. Alarmed, Wally used his speed to get between them, hands firm on both of their chests to keep them apart. He could probably feel how fast Dick’s heart was beating.

“Okay, okay, you super-comedians. Knock it off. We aren’t here to slice _each other_ up,” Wally said, his voice cheerful, placating. “Now let’s hear what’s in those letters, huh?”

Dick tore his eyes away from Roy, glad for the excuse. Donna handed him the letters with their latest missions, and he tucked away his anger in favour of coming up with a game plan. “We’ve got two requests for help this time, one from New England and one from the Midwest. We’ll have to break up into two teams, and…”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see how close Roy was standing to Donna, how his arm slipped around her waist the way it had done around his on that night. “Let’s split, beautiful,” Roy was whispering in her ear, but Dick could still lip-read it. Could see the pleasant surprise in Donna’s eyes, her smile.

“…I guess the teams have already been picked,” he muttered as Roy led Donna away. Wally gave him a quizzical look, so he half-smiled: yes, he was fine.

Fine.

At least until Wally seemed reassured.

* * *

**now**

“It’s just that you remind me of my mother, sometimes.” Dick said it in a rush, so that he had no time to reconsider, and Roy sat up in his bed, bleary-eyed, squinting at the digital clock on the bedside – 4:00 AM.

“…Dick…? What…?”

“I just got back. And yes, I have the ledgers.” Dick sighed. He sat down on the space left by the curve of Roy’s stomach where Roy slept on his side and peeled off his Nightwing uniform as he talked. “My mother— she never liked to stick to one place. Always had to be on the move. She carried her relationships around like… luggage, at least until she met my dad. You remind me of her, sometimes.”

Roy blinked slowly, probably still half asleep. “Uh, I’ve seen the pictures? You’re the one who looks like her now. Real beautiful, baby.”

Dick smiled, soft. “I mean your nature.” He slipped the glove on his left hand off one finger at a time. “You talk about Jason like you were in love with him and then you go and kiss me instead. You said you could share each other with Kory when you were all together… it seems so easy for you, like moving from place to place. Things like marriage, or a long-term relationship… you’d hate it, Roy.” He dropped his free hand on his lap, staring down at his upturned palm. “But me… I need those things. You understand that, right? I’m not the same.”

Roy seemed wide awake now. His hands came up to hold Dick by his now exposed shoulders, making him shiver. “I’ve known you for more than a decade, Dick, of course I understand all that. But what are you saying? You think I would force you to approach relationships the way I do? Or that I would cheat, or something? Is that it? Look, I respect that you don’t do _casual_ and you definitely don’t do _open_. It’s not like I want to change that…”

Dick raised a hand to rest on one of Roy’s. “…I only mean that… maybe we’re different people who want different things.” His hand tightened. As if in response, Roy leaned forward. Dick could feel his stubble brush against his bare shoulder.

A whisper – “…Are you… maybe… scared that I’d leave?”

Dick swallowed. “Maybe…” Madame Mystique’s voice in his head, now, saying that it was impossible to tie down a hurricane. “You hate commitment, Roy. Even with the Titans – the _Titans_ – you came and went. If we were to try again… how would it work out?”

“But Dick, I wasn’t the one who left the last time.”

He closed his eyes. “…I know.”

Roy sighed, frustrated. “Look, just— it’s no pressure. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you earlier, I think it made you feel like you have to settle this right now. We haven’t talked in years, and— it was wrong. I should have, I don’t know, waited, maybe. Or not done it at all. Whichever. The fact is I really care about you. Which means that I want you to have a choice here, okay? And you don’t have to make it so quickly. I got nothing but time, I can wait.” Dick felt more than saw his tired smile. “Friend, lover, both, neither. Whatever you decide, I meant what I said before. I will not, ever, hold it against you.”

“…See, this is what I mean,” Dick sniffed, blinking too fast, but half-laughing too. “You make it sound so… simple. So… I don’t know, like you could really… l-love me… and still be okay if I didn’t want us to…” He felt a stab of guilt run through his heart. “Not that I think you don’t take this seriously, or that you never… felt about me as strongly as I used to feel about you…”

“Hush.” Roy gave his shoulders a firm, but playful pat. “Get some sleep, it’s past four. We can talk about this some other time, yeah?” He started to push the sheets aside, so Dick grabbed him by the wrist.

“Stay, I can take the couch.”

“Don’t be silly, Dick, it’s your bed.”

Roy pulled on his sweater and made his way to the door. He paused; then, turning and giving Dick an unreadable look over his shoulder, he half-whispered, “…Who told you that love couldn’t be simple? Who said that it has to hurt for it to be serious, to be real…?”

Dick felt his eyes grow wide, but it seemed to be a rhetorical question. Roy gave him a bittersweet smile and left the room. “Goodnight.”

Left alone in the dark, Dick felt a sudden urge to go hunting for his mother’s old tin. Nine cards to read fortunes of romance and troubled relationships, wasn’t it…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roy said: “My heart slowly beats for you.” Also, Roy having to learn English is canon.
> 
> Kudos, bookmarks, comments, subscriptions, s’il vous plaît?
> 
> Find me as anelderling on Tumblr!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in New Titans #101, Dick says to Roy: “I’ve been there every time you called me. I sat up with you all night while you were detoxing. That was not a pretty sight.”, even though it was Dinah who was with Roy for the initial detox in Snowbirds Don’t Fly, and some versions – like the flashback in Titans Vol. 2 #23 – have Roy checking into rehab instead. But, “DC” stands for “Dafuq is Continuity”, we knew that. Therefore, for this story, I’m going with the original version and then giving credence to Dick’s little rant by having Roy call him during it. Still counts. ~~We just have to ignore the “pretty sight” part~~.
> 
> Also, I’m team “Marvel and DC are fictional in each other’s universes”. It’s fun.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

Roy had meant it, when he’d said that he was leaving the choice in Dick’s hands. Ever since that night, there had been hardly any play-flirting or touching beyond the strictly platonic, and hardly any talk about the conversation that they had had, too.

Not that Roy refused to talk about their history altogether, of course. Unlike Dick – whose general principle for dealing with anything that was painful or troubling had always been “ignore it and move on” unless it affected the people he cared about – Roy, true to the Irish in him, tended to be practical to a fault, and apparently saw no reason to sweep it all under the rug. It left Dick feeling all sorts of conflicted.

Like now, for instance. They were currently on the last lap of Nightwing’s patrol route, and had stopped for a break on a rooftop somewhere. Dick had just whipped out a flask and handed it to Arsenal, when a familiar tune had wafted up from one of the apartments below – Bryan Adams’ voice singing: _Oh, thinking about all our younger years, there was only you and me, we were young and wild and free_ …

“Nightwing!” Roy had hissed, like an overexcited child. “Our song!”

“…Stupid.” Dick shook his head, but he couldn’t hide the affection in his voice, either. To cover it up, he sat down on the short wall surrounding the roof and grinned. “Hey, what if someone had heard that? Twitter would be full of it tomorrow. Nightwing-slash-Arsenal starts trending all of a sudden. They have a song, you guys!” He fake-gasped.

Roy barked out a laugh as he sat down next to Dick. “I’d be surprised if that hasn’t happened already, considering how often we’ve been patrolling together lately. What do you think our couple name is? NightArse?”

“Ugh.” Dick made a face. “See, if you had just kept Red Arrow, it could have been NightArrow or RedWing. This is all your fault.”

“What would NightArrow mean now? You and Ollie?” Roy cringed, exaggerating, and then nudged him. “Like you really care, anyway – I’ve seen your search history. The only couples you would ever look up are the fictional ones, right, Mr. Stucky-Lover-Five-Ever—”

“That was _not_ me, that was Steph!” Dick protested, laughing. “She uses my computer sometimes, okay?”

“Good, because I was about to let you know that Bucky was aged up for the movies. That’s a mentor-sidekick relationship in the comics. So it’s as weird as if it’d been you and Batman.”

Dick shrugged. “Didn’t know, don’t care. I only read Spiderman.”

“That actually explains a lot.” Roy chuckled. They fell into a comfortable silence, the music louder now without their voices and laughs. _Love is all that I need, and I found it there in your heart, it isn’t too hard to see, we’re in heaven_ …

God— what a cheesy song, Dick thought, smiling to himself. It was hard to imagine now that they had once been so young, so naïve, so convinced about being in love. Now, closer to thirty than thirteen, they were left to dance around their feelings, cowards thanks to all the complications that life had brought with it. Feeling a strange emptiness all of a sudden, Dick let his head fall on Roy’s shoulder. It was unfair and he knew it, but he felt selfish just then.

Roy smiled down at him. “It’s almost Christmas.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What are your plans? Family get-together back in Gotham, I’m guessing.”

Dick shook his head no. “Alfred tries it every year but we can never seem to _all_ be together. Something always seems to come up for somebody, and then it’s just a handful of us at the table. Poor Alfred.”

“…What about the Titans?” Roy’s voice was careful. Dick gave him a _look_ , and he sighed – “Worth a shot. Besides, it’s not like us founders are the only Titans. Yeah?”

“Are you suggesting that I show up to one of Gar’s holiday bashes? Those are legendary. For all the wrong reasons. By the way, I’m never invited. It’s the reputation; responsible leader and all that.”

Roy laughed, soft. “Gar’s a riot.” A pause. “…Wingster? I miss us, too, you know.”

“…Maybe…” Dick whispered it, hesitant – “Maybe we could talk to the others together, then. Not right now, but… when we’re ready.”

“I’d like that,” Roy answered. Dick felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. At least he wouldn’t have to face the fallout from lying to his best friends all alone, then. And, speaking of facing things…

“What about you? Aren’t you going home for the holidays?”

Roy said nothing for a moment, and then, to Dick’s surprise, he nodded absently. “You know what? I think I will. _Home_ home, though. Arizona. Oljato.” That made more sense. “To, uh, find my faith again, I guess. That’s what Christmas is all about, after all.” Dick felt him swallow. “I wonder if they ever heard about L-Lian. Probably, right?”

“Probably,” Dick agreed. He felt Roy’s pain like it was his own, had to resist the urge to kiss it away, tenderly. That would help no one. He would only reveal himself to be the hypocrite that Roy never seemed to realise he was, even when his other lovers and teammates and even family had. Roy and Wally and Donna and Garth, constants on his side. _Not anymore_ …

“You should come with me,” Roy said. Dick glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. Roy looked like he meant it. “How long has it been since our last road trip? Ireland, right? You and Wally get one every year, it’s not fair.” He smiled, hand idly tracing the finger-stripes on Dick’s uniform. “You said it yourself – there’s no serious threat in Bludhaven, yet. So you could afford a couple days off. We’ll go soon, we’ll just drive. Get you back in time for Christmas with your folks while I do my thing.”

Roy’s hand now found his hair, and Dick shivered, soothed. “Remember when we went as kids? You and Donna loved the stars. You must have spent hours talking under them.”

“We don’t see them like that in the cities,” Dick whispered as an explanation, wistful. He missed conversations with Donna. “She said they reminded her of Themyscira. I told her they reminded me of the continent— well, parts of the continent, anyway. So we started to reminisce and then it got hard to figure out when to stop.” He laughed, but it sounded forced even to himself.

Roy seemed to catch that and frowned. “Shit. Sorry.”

“What for?”

“I keep bringing them up.” Roy lifted his hand, rubbing at the curve where his neck met his shoulder in a sheepish gesture. “Di—Wing, I swear I’m not trying to pressure you into talking to them again. Though, I’m not going to lie, that would be awesome.” An uncomfortable pause. “But you do realise that they would be more relieved to have you back than anything else, right? I mean, come on, it’s us. Titans together, Titans forever and all that. Yeah?”

Dick huffed out a breath, partly amused and partly exasperated. “No pressure, he says.”

“Hey, I’m just reminding you that we’re all crazy about each other and we always have been.” Roy smiled, nostalgic. “What was it that Wal used to say? That we shared a spark or something.”

Dick remembered, nodding slowly. “Yeah. A spark as rare as a lightning strike, and like a lightning strike…”

“…You can’t make it happen. It just did,” Roy finished, and they mulled it over in silence, missing Wally, missing the innocent years.

“Jesse Quick used to call the five of us incestuous,” Dick blurted out.

Roy stared, eyebrows raised, and then he burst out laughing. “I mean, yeah, that’s another way of putting it, I guess!”

* * *

**then**

Dick had been in the library, when the call came. Mid-terms were coming up. He’d had books and sheets of paper spread out in front of him, and was hard at work reading through them with a crease between his eyebrows; then, the telltale buzz of a vibrating cell-phone.

“Hello?” He answered, automatically expecting it to be Alfred checking up on him as usual. Heavy, laboured breathing on the other end caught his attention, and he was immediately on the alert. “Who is this?”

Through the harsh breaths in his ear he could recognise a whisper of a word: his name in a familiar voice, almost pleading – and he shot out of his seat and out of the library altogether. “Roy!? Is that you?”

None of them had heard from Roy in… a long time. Too long. And there had been rumours that no one wanted to believe. But Dick had known Roy long enough now, and if Oliver really had just gone off without him, and Roy no longer had the Titans to fall back on, he knew that they couldn’t just be dismissed as impossible, either.

There _had_ been a confrontation, a short one, but Roy had _said_ – he had promised them – it was just undercover work, temporary, nothing serious…

“Dick.” And oh, God, the pain in his voice. Dick flinched.

“What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

A sharp sound, closer to a whimper than Dick would have liked it to be. “…I fucked up, Dick. I fucked up so bad…”

Dick shushed him, sliding down the wall that he had been leaning against, grateful that it was late enough for the hall to be completely empty. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I lied.” It came out like a sob. “It wasn’t just a case. I lied to all of you. I’m nothing but a stupid junkie, and now I can’t even kick it, it hurts so bad, I just want… I need… just once… it hurts…”

His detective’s mind put two and two together and Dick couldn’t help the sharp, shocked breath that escaped him. Thankfully the Robin reflexes kicked in and he could push aside the emotion to concentrate on the solution. “…Roy, listen to me.” He used his most authoritative voice, hoping that years of taking orders from him would make Roy instinctively calm down and listen. “This is very important. Where are you, and are you alone?”

“Dinah’s.” A shuddering breath. “I’m not. She’s asleep. Worn out from having to deal with me all day. Don’t make me wake her.”

Dinah… as in Lance? Oliver’s…? _Oh no_. Dick tore the sentence apart and deduced that, one, Oliver had to have found out about it all; two, Oliver wasn’t with Roy; which meant, three, Oliver had not reacted well.

 _Oh, Roy_ …

“You can beat this.” Dick tried to sound both confident and gentle all at the same time. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. Hang on, buddy. You’re not alone. Dinah’s there. I’m here.”

He could hear the telltale hitch in Roy’s breath that meant tears and had to swallow around the sudden lump rising in his own throat. The actual, _physical_ pain that Roy had to be going through…

“Everyone I love always leaves,” Roy choked out. “Ollie and Brave Bow and you guys…”

Dick felt his heart clench. “…I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If I could be there, I would. Just don’t hang up. We’ll get you through this.”

“All I ever do is screw everything up.” Roy didn’t seem to have even heard him, lost now in some hellish headspace where there was no hope to be seen. “Everything— shit son, shit sidekick… I had Donna. _Donna_. And I screwed that up, too.”

“Bullshit, Roy,” Dick cut in, unable to bear hearing him talk about himself like that. “You’re one of the best. You’re a Titan, remember?”

“I could have had _you_.” Dick sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes. “Right, Dick? I could have— you would have been one of the best things that have ever happened to me. You _are_ one of the best things that have ever happened to me. But I was so stupid, I… I panicked, I—”

“Roy, stop it. That was… freaking years ago. I understand, okay? That’s just how you are about hook-ups and things. I’m not still holding a grudge over it. I swear…”

“What?” And Dick frowned, confused by the confusion in Roy’s voice. “A hook-up? Is that what you thought it was? We didn’t even— what? No, I wouldn’t do that with _you_ , Dick. You’re not into that…”

 _Oh_. Dick’s heart skipped a beat. “…My point is, Roy, is that if you think for one moment that Donna— that I— that _any of us_ regret knowing you… you’re the bravest, kindest, most loyal person I have ever met, and it has been _nothing_ but a privilege to fight by your side, I mean it. Don’t you dare believe anything else, no matter how real it feels to you right now. Do you understand me?”

A bitter laugh. “Sure, boss. Except Ollie would disagree.”

“Doesn’t make him right,” Dick answered without hesitation. “You made a mistake. So? We all have. We all do. And now you’re making it right. If that isn’t the bravest thing…” He had to pause, pained by the rasping, wet breaths on the other end that meant that Roy was really crying, hard. “You are _loved_ , Roy,” he whispered it like it was his dearest secret. “No matter what.”

“…How can you… how can _you_ … say something like that to _me_ , of all… I’m nothing, I’m not even… and you, you’re everything, you’re everything…”

Dick shushed him tenderly, waited for Roy’s breathing to even out as much as it could with the pain he had to be going through. Every crack house raid, every stray piece of information he had absorbed came back to him in vivid, haunting staccato, parading withdrawal symptoms in front of him like the worst horror movie in the world: cravings, weakness, excruciating muscular pain, night sweats, vomiting, agitation, self-harm, delirium, severe anxiety, insomnia, disorientation, seizures, mental confusion…

He had to quench a feeling of betrayal, an accusing shout – _Why would you do this to yourself, how could you hurt someone I care about like this_ – it wouldn’t help, he reasoned… and besides, there were other, more truthful things he wanted to say.

Like, _I’m sorry._ Like, _I should have been there for you sooner._

“Don’t leave.” Roy sounded startled by his own request, and Dick could almost hear him scrambling to cover it up. “Don’t… hang up, I mean.”

Dick swallowed, blinked a little too rapidly. “…Of course.”

So many different ways to say _I love you_.

* * *

**now**

There was one other problem with the choice being in Dick’s hands, too – besides having to force himself to ignore the history _and_ the chemistry between them.

It was having to ignore the _biology_.

Which hit him hard on the morning of the proposed road trip. He’d left Roy waiting by the truck – a red pickup Roy had borrowed from some friend somewhere – to grab the airbags, and when he’d returned, the picture that met him forced him to pause at the doorway just to appreciate it.

It was about five or so, and the sun was steadily rising. Roy’s hair caught it the way tinsel caught fairy-lights, turning almost rose-gold. He had a cigarette between his fingers, which was a rare sight ever since he’d quit for Lian’s sake – a habit picked up from Jason, maybe? – and turned his head to look at something off to the side somewhere as he brought it up to his lips. The deep blue denim jacket that he had borrowed from Dick was slung over his shoulder despite the chill in the air, hiding his prosthetic arm. His other one showed off muscle and fair skin, in his faded, short-sleeved Jim Morrison t-shirt.

He looked like a daydream. Dick felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine. Partly just to break the spell, he made as much noise as possible as he stepped out of the building. Roy glanced up at him with an almost guilty smile and said, “Honest to God, I can’t remember what your stance on these things are,” as he made a vague gesture with the cigarette.

Dick plucked it from his fingers. On impulse, he brought it up to his own lips, making sure that he was close enough to Roy for him to see them wrapping around the paper like it was something else. With that kind of proximity, he could see Roy’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and then down as he swallowed, eyes following Dick’s every move with a familiar hunger in them. Dick tried not to smirk. Revenge was sweet.

He took one, short drag – enough for Roy to realise that this was not his first time – and flicked the rest of what was left of the cigarette away almost carelessly. “It kills,” he answered with an innocent shrug. “I’m against killing in general.”

And then he climbed into the passenger seat of the truck like nothing had happened.

After a moment of startled silence, Roy chuckled amiably. “I’d sell a kidney to learn what goes on in that head of yours,” he said under his breath, but climbed into the driver’s seat, regardless. “Hey, Dick? What kind of lodging are you thinking, like, once we get to Monument Valley? Hotel, cabin, random hogan?”

“Camping. Did you even need to ask?” Dick gave him half a smile.

Roy shrugged. “Figured since it’s just the two of us this time.”

“Oh. You’re right. _And_ you’re planning on leaving me halfway.” Dick hummed. “Hotel it is.”

Roy grinned knowingly, not taking his eyes off the road. “Don’t worry, we’ll still drive out to see the stars.”

“I wasn’t worried. Of course we would. I mean, I’m only in it for the stargazing. What, did you think I came on this trip to hang out with one of my best friends, who’s just walked back into my life after literal years?”

Roy shoved him. Dick half-laughed, half-choked out an indignant “Hey!” when his shoulder hit the door-handle.

* * *

**then**

“…So… where do you go from here?” Dick asked, soft and bittersweet, leaning so far forward against the railing of the bridge that if he had been anyone else he would have fallen over.

Roy, also leaning next to him, but faced in the direction of the thoroughfare rather than the water beneath, shrugged. “Finding a job would have to be my first priority, I guess. Since I shot my trust fund into my veins and all.” He laughed without humour. “Can’t leech off Ollie anymore, so, I mean.”

Dick shook his head, disgusted. “I still can’t believe what an asshole he’s been to you. Like, what the fuck?” To think that he had ever complained about Bruce smothering him…

“Whoa, there, Boy Scout Wonder. Bats lets you say _fuck_ now?”

Dick thumped him across his chest. “Keep it down. And you know what I mean.” He paused, eyeing Roy for a quiet moment. “But, you know, we could always just get the Titans back together, if you’d rather.”

Roy beamed at him, a grateful smile on his face. “You’d do that for me, huh.” His voice sounded almost awed. “Dick— I can’t thank you enough for these past couple of weeks. For everything. You’ve done… so much. Too much. You have no idea.”

“Don’t. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Roy barked out a laugh. “I don’t think even the most benevolent of friends would risk flunking their mid-terms, just to stay on the phone with some drug addict all night, every night. _And_ go on a thirty-hour drive on a fucking motorcycle because they simply _had_ to make sure said addict was okay with their own two eyes. Man, you redefined _above and beyond_ , and for someone who didn’t even deserve it.” He shook his head in a way that made it seem like that fact alone was the toughest mystery he had ever been faced with.

“…I hate the way you talk like that’s something you’re not entitled to,” Dick confessed.

Roy smiled absently. He turned to look out at the river, breathing in. “Don’t bother with the Titans, Dickie-bird. You’re all so busy getting on with your lives, now, college and steady relationships and shit, there’s no point rerouting all of that for me.”

“ _Roy_.”

“Yeah, yeah, no self-deprecating talk around you, I got it. I mean it, though. Wally wouldn’t thank you for it. Trust me on that.”

Dick scowled, disapproving. “Wally loves you.”

“Wally loves Donna more.” Roy hesitated, and then, under his breath: “…Wally loves _you_ more.”

Dick flushed. “Get over yourself.”

Roy laughed, unabashed.

“So that’s it, then? You only came here to tell me goodbye?”

“Well, that and… to give you an apology that’s some three or four years overdue now.” Roy rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “That night. I panicked when I saw Bruce, okay? I mean, Ollie’s free about it, you know that, so him I wasn’t worried about. But Bruce, though— I didn’t know what his stance was on the whole, uh, me being a guy thing. He just seemed so pissed, I thought maybe I had gotten you in trouble. And… I didn’t want to get you into any more, so I didn’t, you know, pursue it or whatever.”

“…What?” Dick burst out laughing, incredulous. “Um, you thought Bruce would have an issue with _you_ being a guy? When he doesn’t have an issue with _me_ being a guy?”

“It made sense at the time, okay!” Still, Roy laughed along. “Jesus. I’m the biggest idiot in the world.”

“Yes, you are. And Bruce was pissed because we were barely even seventeen and he happens to be… protective. Paranoid. That’s literally it.”

“In my defence, though? He’s terrifying.”

Dick grinned. “You just don’t know him like I do.”

They spent a moment in comfortable silence. Then, Roy turned to look at him with something uncharacteristically serious in his eyes. “Dick?”

“Hmm?”

“…Did you mean what you said back then? I mean… well, you didn’t _say_ it, exactly, but, you know… it was _implied_ …”

“I liked you.” Dick confirmed it without hesitation, cutting him off. “As in, romantic like. Yes.”

Roy looked pained. “…Why?”

“Why not?” Dick countered, smiling through the sharp pang in his chest at the fact that Roy even needed to _ask_.

Roy shook his head. “You’re the idiot. You don’t know how out of my league you are.” He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Dick, who returned the hug fiercely, uncaring about who might be watching. He wouldn’t see Roy for who knew how long after this. Where would Roy go? What would he do? Would the five of them ever be together again? “I’m too late, aren’t I.” It didn’t even sound like a question. Roy was resigned, apparently.

Dick closed his eyes, feeling conflicted. He was old enough, now, for Barbara to take his crush on her seriously. Things were not the way they had been on that New Year’s Eve. “…For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Roy pulled back and smiled, sad. “Why? Don’t be. _I’m_ sorry. The first time in my life that I miss…”

 _The first time in my life that I fall_ , Dick thought and didn’t say. “…Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have to leave right away?”

Roy tilted his head in vague curiosity. “I got a couple hours.”

 _Then give us something to hold on to_. Dick leaned up, and pressed a kiss to the side of Roy’s lips. Pulling back, he searched Roy’s eyes for a sign of protest, and finding nothing but bittersweet desire there he did it again, and again, and again, until Roy got his hands more involved and Dick had to suggest they break into another hotel room.

* * *

**now**

Three-quarters of a day’s drive, one motel, a morning and half an afternoon more on the road, and eight hours of sleep later, Dick woke up from his all-too-pleasant dream surging with desire for something that he didn’t get to have anymore.

At least not until he could admit to wanting it without the fear of what it might bring along with it looming over his head.

Admittedly, the memory of his first time that his dream had brought had been seriously exaggerated, but Dick now being awake enough to recall the way it had actually happened didn’t exactly dampen things, either. Roy had been so good to him. It didn’t even make sense. They shouldn’t have been compatible like that – Roy liked sex for fun and Dick liked sex as the culmination of something entirely bigger than that. But it had been… Dick sighed, frustrated. Life was _unfair_.

It didn’t help that Roy chose that particular moment to step out of the attached bath, neck and shoulders still glistening with the water that dripped down from his hair. Dick looked, his stomach tightening with a sharp flare of _want_. Oblivious, Roy started to say something, only to be cut short by Dick flinging a pillow at his face.

“Hey!” Roy spluttered. “What was that for?”

Dick only laughed, hoping it sounded more playful than breathless. “You didn’t use up all the hot water, did you?”

“No. If you’re going to take a shower, though, hurry it up. It’s late enough for a clear view of the stars – or early enough, whatever, same difference.”

 _Sorry, little chance of that,_ Dick thought as he closed the door behind himself, turned on the water, and slipped a hand between his legs.

When they finally drove out into the near-total darkness – compared to the metropolitan excess of light that he was now used to, anyway – Dick felt equal part sated and guilty. His hand rested idly outside of the truck’s window, surfing the wind, and he kept his eyes on it instead of looking at Roy. “…Beautiful,” he breathed out, when he tilted his head up and caught the panorama of twinkling lights above them.

He could hear the smile in Roy’s voice. “Pull over?”

Dick considered it, gauging their distance to see if they were far enough away from the cabins, camping sites, and RVs. Satisfied that they were, he gave Roy an assenting nod. “Let’s.”

He’d been expecting that they would just sit in their seats, and enjoy the view that way, but Roy got out and jogged over to his side, opening the door for him. He tugged at Dick’s hand. “Come on.”

“Where?”

Roy led him around to the back of the truck, and then clambered onto it, beckoning for Dick to join him. “Best seats in the house, baby,” he said, as he lay down with a contented sigh. Shaking his head and smiling fondly, Dick followed suit.

“Tell the story about the coyote again.”

“…Coyote without the _the_. Also, what are we, twelve?” Roy snorted. “You do the storytelling for once. Say, what _are_ the Romani legends behind the constellations?”

“Hell if I know.” Dick shrugged. Then he chuckled. “Isn’t it ironic how you’re more connected to your roots than I am and yet if—”

“Dickie-bird, love of my life, if you start ranting about white-passing privilege, you’re going to give me dinner-table-conversations-with-Ollie flashbacks, instead of letting me enjoy this gorgeous view.” Roy grinned. “And is it the stars I’m talking about? Hmm, well. You never know.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Better make room for all that cheese you’ll be eating when we get back, Harper.”

It occurred to him, then, that he wasn’t sure that Roy _would_ be coming back to his apartment at all. Dick was going to take the truck back to the hotel, after all, and then he’d be on his way to Gotham for Christmas – Roy would be here for however long he needed to be. This was home.

Pained by the realisation, Dick slid closer to Roy, throwing all caution to the wind, and laying his head down on Roy’s chest. Tentatively, Roy curled an arm around him— surprised, confused, but smiling with nostalgia. “…No homo?”

Dick laughed helplessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, folks, Jesse Quick really did say that. Read Titans Vol. 1, 10/10 would recommend.
> 
> I actually know next to nothing about Marvel shipping outside of the MCU. I just figured that Roy, having been raised by Oliver “Social Justice Warrior” Queen himself, is likely to rant about stuff being Problematic™, LOL.
> 
> Isn’t it frustrating that Dick and Roy are so Like That with each other that the song Heaven by Bryan Adams legitimately fits them? I fucking hate these guys. Be canon already.
> 
> Please leave kudos, bookmark the fic, type up a comment, or subscribe! You can find me on Tumblr as anelderling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback is set sometime after the Nightwing: Renegade Arc and before Roy quits the Outsiders. I think I might have taken liberties with that timeline, though, because I doubt that enough time elapses between those events and the ones that happened between them in canon for Dick and Roy to have established some kind of relationship. Shrugs.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

Roy peered out the window at the house across the street and took in a deep and quivering breath. It was decked out in tinsel and reds, golds, and greens for Christmas Day, and someone had forgotten to turn the lights on the patio off the night before.

Either that, or the de facto patriarch of their little home had made the mistake of asking one of the women to do the job and she had refused on principle. That thought made him smirk. It also made the anxiety crowding his chest more intense. He knew that he had to get out of the truck and eventually walk up _to_ the house instead of just staring at it like some creep, but, well… he was scared. Honestly, with how often that feeling overwhelmed him lately, he was surprised that anyone bought his whole fearless defender of justice shtick anymore.

If that was even what he was, now. Jason thought—

Roy clicked his tongue abruptly. Jason Todd was _not_ the person he wanted to be thinking about right now – or ever, at least not until he had to, someday, maybe – he should have been thinking about Ollie. Ollie, who was probably on the other side of that door, celebrating the holiday with the rest of his family, completely unaware that the prodigal son had returned.

Roy sighed. He had a different (dare he say healthier) relationship with his mentor-slash-sort-of-adoptive-father than Dick did, Dick having never been able to cut those proverbial apron strings even back when he had been half-heartedly playing Good Boy Wonder Gone Bad. Dick could tell Roy things about personal loyalty that would make his skin crawl, he was sure. Roy and Mia and to a lesser extent Connor, on the other hand, would probably just punch Ollie in the face if he was being a controlling bastard. And Roy didn’t need to know the new Red Arrow personally yet to doubt that she would be any different.

But that didn’t mean that he didn’t care about Ollie, as much as Dick cared about Bruce. His childhood had been a… weird one, growing up with a constant and looming sense of displacement on the reservation, left out by the Navajo kids for being too Anglo, and bullied by the Anglo kids for being too Navajo. The only father he’d ever known was Brave Bow, his own having died before Roy was old enough to miss him. And despite the efforts that Brave Bow had made to hide it from Roy, he’d known that Brave Bow was dying, and he’d also been vaguely aware that once that happened his place in the tribe would be in some serious jeopardy.

As it turned out, though, Brave Bow had had a contingency plan for that eventuality. A walking, talking, stinking rich contingency plan: Oliver Queen.

If Roy had ever been made to feel out of place on the reservation, it was nothing compared to entering the _Bela Gona’s_ world Queen style. He’d been fairly certain that he knew enough English to get by, but, well, you just didn’t learn words like _chandelier_ and _mansion_ and _butler_ back home. And Ollie hadn’t been looking for a son in Roy then; beyond a sidekick, he’d wanted a buddy, a little brother maybe, and not one more responsibility.

But with all the years between them now, Roy understood that Ollie had done the best he could with what he had, and even if his best could have been better, the fact that he was still sorry for it helped a lot.

Once, after they’d started to open up to each other about their stories, Jason had said to him, musing almost, that he and Roy weren’t so different when it came to their issues with their father figures.

Jason was wrong. If he ever had to face a serious homecoming, he would never— or at least, he _should_ never— face it with guilt. Their fallout had been Bruce’s fault – the fallout between Roy and Ollie, on the other hand…

He reached for the door-handle, decisive. Some kinds of poison could only be counteracted using more poison, he knew. He needed to do this if he was ever going to find peace again.

The jog across the street and up the driveway to the front door felt like a million miles. He raised a hand, reaching past the festive wreath hanging over the knocker. But before he could knock or ring the bell, the door was yanked open from the inside, startling him. He was almost whipped in the face by a swinging blonde ponytail as its owner – who hadn’t turned her head around to notice him yet – laughed at someone inside and said, “What kind of present would be so big that it has to be out here, anyway? Ooh, a car? Did I get a car?”

Then Mia turned, and froze. The laughter inside died instantly as well. Roy braved a smile and a casual, teasing tilt of the head. “…What, I’m not a good enough present for you?”

Past Mia, he could see mirroring expressions of shock on every face in the decorated living room. Connor (Christ, he’d grown taller) had dropped the box he had been holding. Dinah (still in her uniform) held a hand to her mouth. A girl Roy didn’t know (short hair, punk-ish style with highlights, blue eyes) turned from his face, to the other faces, confused. And Ollie half-stood off the couch he had been lounging on, eyes wide and mouth half-open.

Roy looked away. He cleared his throat. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. But for better or worse, Mia broke the spell so he didn’t have to – she burst into tears. “Roh-oh-oy…!”

Startled, Roy grabbed her by the shoulders in a panic. Mia rarely ever cried. “Whoa, hey…”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Mia sobbed, probably not even registering the fact that he’d wrapped his arms around her and she was now wailing into his shoulder. “I dream about her. Every night. You were right, I shouldn’t have left her—”

“…Stop it.” Roy tried to sound equal parts firm and consoling, but his voice ended up breaking ever so slightly. “I wasn’t right. About any of you.” He turned pleading eyes to everyone else over Mia’s head. “I was— I needed someone to blame. Anyone. But what happened to Lian… to my girl… the only ones at fault were the bastards behind it. I’m the one who’s sorry. Huh, Mia? I am. I really am.”

Mia cried harder, her arms clinging to him tight as a vice. Dinah walked up to them, tears welled up in her eyes as well. “Oh, Roy, we had no idea where you were— then there were stories, we heard—” she laughed wetly. “But you’re alright? That’s all that matters.”

“Does this mean you’re back?” Connor looked and sounded so hopeful that Roy had to blink hard. “You are, right?”

Ollie joined them, eyes shining, voice gruff. “…’Course he is, what are you asking for? Welcome home, son. Sure took your time. Goddamn troublemaker.”

Roy laughed through the emotion, eyes on his mentor. He felt… released. “Still faster than _you_ , old man.”

Their teary reunion hug was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. The girl with the short hair had a hand on her hip and her head cocked, annoyed. “…So, is someone going to introduce me, or what?”

* * *

**then**

Dick shivered under Roy’s touch. Roy kissed his way up Dick’s shoulder to his neck, pausing to suckle the spot there that made Dick tilt his head back with a trembling sigh. Roy’s hands roamed down his shoulders, slipping the neck of Dick’s Nightwing uniform lower and lower as they went, teasing gooseflesh from his marvellously bare sun-kissed skin. Sure, there had been something intimate in taking Dick’s binder off when he had still been using one. But – Roy traced the now-faded incision scars by the side of Dick’s chest – he liked this, too.

“Dickie-bird. Pretty Bird…”

Dick looked like he wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. It broke Roy’s heart, how Dick tried to hide his smiles now. _Something_ had gone wrong and Roy had been too late to notice— they all had.

“Stop stealing Dinah’s pet name,” Dick whispered. “It’s weird.”

“No, it isn’t.” Roy smiled into his skin. And if it was a little sad, well, Dick was faced away from him, practically on his lap. He couldn’t see. “You’re _my_ Pretty Bird. She’s Ollie’s. And I’m going to make _my_ Pretty Bird sing.”

He slipped his fingers lower, past where the Nightwing uniform had pooled around Dick’s slender waist, ready to do just that. Rubbed at what he found there as slowly as he could. Dick gasped, his head now fully resting on Roy’s shoulder. His mouth dry, Roy watched the tantalising curve of Dick’s neck where it was tilted so far back that he could tell if Dick swallowed. Roy’s fingers could feel warmth and wetness a little further back, but he waited for a cue from Dick first. Sometimes it was okay to touch there, sometimes it wasn’t.

Sometimes, of late, it wasn’t even okay to touch _anywhere_ , and he had to content himself with Dick pleasuring him without getting to return it. Which was still satisfying, but Roy didn’t like that much. There was only so much he wanted to do _to_ Dick – so much more he wanted to do _for_ him.

Dick’s right hand came up to curl around his neck. His breaths fell heavy against Roy’s cheek. “…Inside, Roy, inside…”

Roy kissed him hard, the angle making it kind of sloppy. His fingers released their grip and slid further back, circling, teasing, then sliding in. One first, then two, then three. Roy put the calluses that had built up on them over years of pulling a bowstring taut to good use. Dick trembled in pleasure, the hand that wasn’t clutched around Roy’s neck moving behind to touch Roy through his pants. He ground the heel of his palm down, making Roy groan. “Fuck… yeah. Dick… God, you’re so perfect. Oh, fuck, you’re—”

Dick kissed him so suddenly that it hurt, like he was desperate to shut Roy up. _No_. If Roy could have gotten away with it, he would have screamed it in frustration. Dick had built his walls up so high that he couldn’t even stand a couple of words of praise anymore. When had they lost him? Why had no one been paying attention? He let his free hand meet his first, caressing while the other one slipped in and then out, in and then out. He would show him, if he couldn’t tell him. He would make Dick feel so good that he would have no choice but to accept that he was loved _that much_.

Dick made a sharp sound, music to his ears, when Roy found that special place inside him that he knew would make him see stars.

“…You feeling good, baby?”

Dick didn’t answer, twisting his head to press kisses to the side of Roy’s throat instead. Roy chuckled. “Yeah, you are.”

He dragged it out for as long as he could, slowing his fingers down every time he felt Dick getting close to the edge. He had no other choice – Dick so rarely seemed happy, these days, and the rare times that he relented when Roy asked him to come over were the only times that he looked like he felt… well, anything at all. Roy watched his eyes, watched Dick soaking in the pleasure almost like he was starved for it. He was always like this when they slept together lately, always seemed to be desperate to make the moment last – and then it would end, and Roy swore he looked like he was trying to keep himself from crying.

So Roy dragged it out.

“…Roy… R-Roy… mm… what about you…?”

Roy shushed him. “You let me worry about me, beautiful. Just feel this. Feel good.”

Inevitably, Roy couldn’t hold it back anymore. He felt the spasms around his fingers, felt the wetness bathing them when he held them still. Dick was making the most exquisite little whines, his breaths hard, uneven. “…So much… you keep… giving me so much… I’m—”

Roy kissed him, panicked because he was sure that Dick had been about to say _I’m sorry_. He’d been through a lot in this line of work, but he didn’t think he would ever be able to bear _that_.

Dick didn’t even waste a moment, after he’d calmed down. He stood, shimmying out of his uniform completely, and bent to release Roy, too. Then he wrapped his arms around Roy’s neck and lowered himself back down onto Roy’s lap, facing him this time, and once Roy had managed to fumble a condom on he took him in, inch by slow inch.

Dick rode him until Roy was well and truly sated. And then it was over, and neither of them had energy for much more than stolen kisses, Roy’s bittersweet, and Dick’s almost regretful. It was apparently one of the rare nights when Roy and the day behind them had managed to tire Dick out enough for him to at least _try_ to sleep. Roy held him close to his chest, started singing that overplayed song that he had drunkenly declared _theirs_ one time – _Baby you’re all that I want, when you’re lying here in my arms_ – until Dick swatted at him, annoyed.

It made him chuckle. Made him hope, at least for that fleeting moment, that there might still be a little bit of their Robin in there somewhere, under all the layers of Bat and Bludhaven.

But the respite, as usual, proved to be little more than a precious few seconds that Roy had managed to wrestle out of Time’s greedy hands for his beloved; it didn’t last. What felt like seconds later, Roy startled awake because Dick was scrambling out of the sheets and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound of retching followed, and Roy’s heart clenched. _Nightmare_. No small wonder that Dick didn’t like to sleep these days, preferring his weird Bat-style micro-naps instead. Ever since Bludhaven, the dreams had gotten bad. Really bad.

Roy sat up, at a loss for what to do. He’d tried to wheedle the problem out of Dick before, but it was no secret that Dick had wandered so far into himself, these days, that not even his closest friends knew what was going on in his personal life anymore. It could have been anything. The stuff that Roy had gleaned out of the news and social media alone was bad enough – Blockbuster dying and everyone saying that it had been Nightwing who had killed him; Haly’s burning down; the new face making trouble in Gotham, calling himself the Red Hood, who may or may not have had something to do with why Roy had found Dick, eyes lost, vacant, vulnerable, clutching an old Polaroid of himself and Jason Todd in a tight grip.

And through it all, Dick refused to complain. Going to Gotham whenever he was asked because _God forbid_ that he disappoint Bruce fucking Wayne by seeming human, having feelings. Refusing to allow himself the supposed luxury of mourning Donna properly. Refusing to reach out to Wally after their fight, whatever that had even been about. Roy knew that it was pointless to blame anyone, but he couldn’t help himself: he was mad at Barbara for breaking up with Dick, and mad at Kory for being able to just fuck off into space whenever she felt like it, and mad at Wally for being stubborn, and mad at Bruce for being the reason Dick even moved to Bludhaven in the first place because Dick would bend over backwards to gain his approval. Literally.

He was even a tiny bit mad at Donna for dying. And Garth was too full of his own insecurities to reach out to any of them if most of them were drifting apart. And Robin was younger than Dick and therefore could only reasonably be expected to depend on his brother and not the other way around.

Roy released a trembling sigh. For someone who was so well-connected, so trusted, so loved, Dick was also terrifyingly, heartbreakingly, alone.

Most of all, Roy was mad at himself. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he could have prevented a lot of this if he had only gotten over his fear of getting too close – too tied down. Had he only been there for Dick from the start, instead of running away with his tail between his legs just because there had been others with a whole lot more to offer Dick than he could…

If he could turn back time, Roy would have called Dick, then. He wouldn’t have relented so damn easily, the day he had understood the way Wally looked at Dick. He knew that he was the least equipped to handle it all, he knew that Dick’s heart was the most fragile gift he would ever receive and he had a track record of shattering things, but God fucking damn it, he was prepared to _try_.

He glanced up when Dick returned to bed, eyes rimmed red from having been sick. “Are you okay?” he asked, knowing full well that Dick would nod and shrug and make up some excuse about bad food.

Dick did exactly that. Mumbled something about not being tired anymore, the sun coming up, and Lian returning from her sleepover, in a couple hours. Then he stalked off into the kitchen, Roy helplessly following after him. Roy ached to touch him, to offer him some form of comfort, but to do that would be to stop Dick from keeping his illusion that nothing was wrong, and Roy just didn’t have the heart anymore.

“You staying for breakfast?” he asked instead, because he was a coward and selfish and he just needed Dick to be okay.

Roy’s gods must have been able to smell the desperation on him, because Dick slowly lifted his hand away from where it had been reaching for the jacket that he’d left on the kitchen table the night before. The mornings when Dick chose to stay were a rarity, precious hours that Roy treasured like a man starved, which he was. “Sure. What’s to eat?”

Roy busied himself with cooking after that, and the early hours slipped away in pointless conversation and bacon and eggs. Dick helped him do the dishes. “I’m sorry.” His tone was light, like he was kidding. “You call me over to show me a good time and I always end up being too much trouble instead.”

“Okay, being dead serious, though? I never want to hear something like that from you again.” Roy sighed. “Like there’s such a thing as doing too much for somebody you love. Come on.”

_Crash._

Roy blinked, unprepared for the plate in Dick’s hands to shatter against the floor. “…What did you say?” Dick demanded, an accusation in his voice, like Roy had said something unforgiveable.

“What?” Roy frowned, confused.

“ _Love?_ ”

He felt his heart grow cold. “…Well, yeah. You _are_ someone I—”

 _Shit_. Dick looked like he was about to hyperventilate or something. “…But I… I mean, I thought this was… something fun? Just, I don’t know, sex?”

The cold was suffocating. “Um, since when do you do _just sex_?”

“People change, Roy! _I_ changed.” And Roy still couldn’t understand why Dick had to sound so _angry_ about it. “Christ— if I had been _looking_ for a relationship, I wouldn’t have—” Dick stopped, a hand clamped over his mouth, eyes huge and horrified. But it was too late.

“No, finish that sentence. Go ahead. Please.” Roy spat it out, teeth clenched. “You wouldn’t have _what_? You wouldn’t have come to me? You would have gone back to Barbara or Wally or Kory? I’m just good for a fuck, because that’s what I’m usually into anyway?”

Dick didn’t even deny it, though the colour in his cheeks was high. “How was I supposed to— you’re always— you don’t do relationships!”

“It depends on the person, Dick!” Roy answered, genuinely hurt. “I mean— fuck, did you think I was going to say _no_ if you had told me that that’s what you were after from the start? I’m cool with that! But you… you never used to be. How would I… I thought we…” He turned away, too frustrated, too betrayed to make sense anymore. “At least when Donna was using me, she was honest about it!”

“ _Using_ you? I wasn’t using you!”

“Yes, you were.” Roy was too tired to pretend, anymore. “Come on, Dick— _people change_? Really? How long have I known you? You. Don’t. Like. Meaningless. Sex. Period. So you know what I think it means, that you want that from me, from us, in the condition that you’ve been in lately? I think it means you’re fucking hurting yourself, Dick. And you’re using _me_ to do it.” He shook his head. “I said it to Sarge Steel years ago, and I’m saying it to you now. I will not – _ever_ – be involved in something that would hurt you. Not even if you want it.”

Silence. Dick had backed away so far against the sink that Roy was sure he would find bruises around his hips later. If there would _be_ a later. “…You’re really saying that you love me. You’re _in_ love with me.”

Roy breathed out shakily, voice pleading. “It makes me happy when you’re happy, and it makes me sad when you’re sad, Dick. What do you think?”

A humourless laugh. “…What do I think…? I think it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been addicted to something that will only destroy you in the end, Roy.”

He could only register the pain, barely had time to think of something to say in reply – a small, hesitant voice called from the doorway: “Daddy…?”

Roy whipped around, staring uncomprehendingly at Lian’s questioning expression, and Ron looking equal parts embarrassed and concerned behind her. Lian. Sleepover. Right. “…Princess. You’re back.” He braved a smile; only for her. “You had fun?”

“Mm-hmm.” The innocence in Lian’s wide smile was ridiculously out of place for the atmosphere, but she didn’t even notice. “Hi, Uncle Dick!”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dick’s smile seemed frayed at the edges. He stooped to pick up the broken pieces of the plate from the floor. “Don’t come close until we get this cleaned up, okay? Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt, Roy, would we?”

Roy flinched. Resolutely, he snapped himself out of it and walked over to his daughter, scooping her up in his arms and blowing a wet raspberry into her cheek that left her giggling. “Ron, could you take her up to get changed? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Sure, Roy,” Ron answered, awkward but understanding. Roy passed Lian over to him with a reassuring smile and kept it in place until they’d disappeared up the stairs. Then he let it fall away.

Dick had abandoned the ceramic pieces too. He’d leaned back, seated on the floor, his hands pushing the hair back from his face, eyes closed. “…I can’t be your boyfriend, Roy. End this. Think about Lian.”

“What about Lian?” Roy returned. “For fuck’s sake, Dick, I would never have had her without you. She’s _our_ little girl. You can’t deny that.”

“You don’t understand.” Dick looked at him with frustrated yet pleading eyes. “You think you know me so well, but you’ve always only seen the best in me. I’m not good for her. For you. I’m— I’m poison, I’m—”

Kneeling in front of him, Roy could see that Dick wasn’t even really talking to him anymore. He seemed to be seeing beyond Roy into whatever hellish memory his dreams brought him to every night. Roy pulled him against his chest, holding him tight. He was trembling slightly, suddenly more fragile than Roy had ever seen him before. It brought a lump to his throat.

“Please. Let’s stop. I can’t.”

Roy closed his eyes against the burning sensation that was already welling up in them. “…If that’s what you really want,” he said hoarsely. “…But remember that it’s what _you_ wanted, Dick. Not me. I don’t, I haven’t ever, wanted to end this. I look at you and I see _nothing_ that isn’t worth loving.” He swallowed. “I love you, Robbie.”

Dick practically scrambled out of his arms. “I have to go,” he said, his voice breathless. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He swept his jacket and his bag from off the kitchen table, and all but ran for the back door, never even turning around for a proper goodbye.

* * *

**now**

“—So I want to raise a toast,” Ollie said, beaming around at each face at the dinner table. “To family. To the ones who’ve always been there,” with a wink at Dinah, “The ones who came later,” nodding at Emiko, Connor, and Mia, “The ones we lost,” raising his glass in the direction of the framed picture of Lian above the fireplace behind them, “And the ones we got back,” smiling at Roy.

“To family!” they repeated with varying degrees of enthusiasm, laughing and clinking their glasses together.

Roy felt full and vaguely sleepy in that post-celebration way that one would feel as a kid, but he stubbornly kept his eyes open and leaned closer to Dinah. “Hey, uh.” He hesitated. “Thanks. For dragging my sorry ass to that centre after I… fell off the wagon. After Lian passed. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever got hooked on heroin again.”

Dinah smiled at him and shook her head. “Wasn’t me.” She set her glass down. “Dick checked you in. Stayed with you as long as he could. I was there, of course, but… Dick’s idea for the most part, kiddo.”

Roy’s stomach did a complicated little flip. “Of course it was.” He shook his head, laughing to himself. “Fucking _Dick_.”

“Hey, yeah – you know Nightwing, don’t you, Roy?” Emiko had apparently caught the tail end of their conversation. She was blushing, whether from the champagne or the mention of Dick, Roy couldn’t tell. “Man, that is one hell of an attractive specimen right there. So gorgeous. It’s unreal.”

Roy grinned, charmed in spite of his initial uncertainty about how he was supposed to feel about this new addition to the family. “…He is, isn’t he.”

Later, when Ollie had gotten so drunk that he’d attempted to play the piano and Mia had passed out on the couch so Roy had had to carry her up to her bedroom like some baby, Roy found the telephone and dialled the number that he had memorised by now. “Hello?” Dick sounded polite, but distracted. Roy smiled.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Roy?” There was pleasant surprise and interest in Dick’s voice now, which warmed his heart. “Merry Christmas! Where are you calling from?”

“How’s about we hear your best guess?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t had a call from a landline number in ages.” Dick hummed, thinking. “Do they still have payphones in Arizona?”

Roy made an exaggerated fake buzzer noise, grinning. “Wrong answer. It’s Ollie’s. I’m at Ollie’s.”

A startled pause. Then Dick let out a breath, caught between a laugh and a gasp. “Roy, that’s… I’m so proud of you.”

Roy felt a lump catch in his throat. “You know what?” he mused, voice gruff. “Me, too.”

“Just tell me when I should send your stuff over and I’ll handle it.”

“What?” Roy blinked. “No, I’m not moving in or anything, it’s just for Christmas.” A thought occurred to him, and he flushed. “Oh shit. Unless you wanted me to? In which case I don’t think Ollie would mind—”

“No, that’s.” Dick’s laugh sounded just as embarrassed. “I thought… never mind. I thought that’s what _you_ wanted. Um. I don’t, actually. Want you to move out, I mean. It’s been, um… nice.”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat. “It… has?”

“…Yeah.” Dick’s voice grew soft, and Roy couldn’t stop smiling.

“When I get back… we need to talk.”

“We do,” Dick conceded. “No more excuses.”

“But for now?”

He could hear the tenderness in Dick’s voice, could almost imagine him, head leaning against something – the wall, an armrest maybe – his phone against his ear, pleasantly exhausted. “…Stay. Don’t hang up.”

 _Yes, boss_. Roy smiled softly.

“How’s Gotham? Bat-brat giving you a lot of trouble? If Jay-bird showed up, tell him to go fuck himself on a cactus. Do you not do presents at your age, or did you get something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Ollie should always have a house and not an apartment to fit the whole family in for holidays and such. If you didn’t get the “I’m poison” reference, count yourself lucky.
> 
> If you liked it, consider leaving kudos, or bookmarking, or typing up a comment, yeah?
> 
> Come and find me on Tumblr (anelderling).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback that you’ve left so far, you guys. You’re all so sweet.
> 
> The flashbacks are set after Dick and Roy find Lian in The Cheshire Contract.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

“I got you something.”

They’d said it at the same time, which made them laugh. Roy shifted closer to Dick on the couch, unable to help smiling in excitement. “Can I go first?” he asked. Dick inclined his head in subtle assent, so Roy reached into his backpack and plopped a crumpled bundle onto Dick’s lap, hoping he’d ignore the haphazard wrapping. “Merry Christmas! …Again.”

“Oh, what’s this?” Dick turned the package around curiously and then pulled it open in that meticulous way that Roy never had any patience for when it came to gifts. Once he discovered that it was breakable, he carefully set the paper aside and cradled the jar in one hand. “…Wow, this is…” Dick held it up to the sunlight, gaping at how the little pieces of blue in the jar caught it, and sparkled. “This looks so cool…”

Roy grinned. For a minute there, Dick had sounded so _Robin_ that it made him feel like singing a hallelujah. “I figured you could use it to liven up the place.” He shrugged. “Didn’t know what else to get you.”

Which was a lie. Roy had barely even set foot on the first sands of home before he made a beeline for Hatale’s shop, asking her, breathless, if she could make him something with turquoise. It was something he’d wanted to do ever since he had first met Dick and Dick’s eyes had hit him with that sharp reminder of home: of pieces of sparkling blue being shaped and crafted between expert fingers. “So we work with turquoise and silver mostly, right?” Roy explained. “And an old friend of mine – well, okay, an old _girl_ friend of mine – I noticed that she doesn’t use some of the gems, probably because they’re too small or dull or whatever, so I asked her to throw those into a jar with that jelly-thing they use in decorative candles and… voilà.”

“It’s so pretty when it catches the light like that.” Dick smiled, reaching across Roy to give the jar a place on the window-sill. “Any significance?”

“Turquoise has always been good luck, but I don’t know if these would work like that, Hatale makes jewellery for the tourists to buy, not anything with actual significance. Still, it couldn’t hurt to keep some around, I guess. With the risks of the job and all.” Roy laughed.

“Not what I meant, but good to know.” Dick shook his head, smiling, fond. “Not that I would ever accuse you of being sentimental, Speedy, but don’t people usually give gifts like this with some kind of meaning attached?”

“…Oh. That kind of significance.” Roy turned to look at the jar instead of Dick, musing and faraway. “Well, kind of. After… Lian, I… I found it hard to come up with a good enough reason to, uh, keep going, you know? I got… reckless, and… a lot of the reason that I kept doing the whole merc thing instead of just hanging it up was the allure of… well, dying on the job, to be honest. Do you… do you see what I’m trying to say?”

Dick took Roy’s good hand between both of his own. “You got low. The lowest anyone can go. Wanted to die. I get it, yeah.”

“Yeah.” Roy swallowed, steadied himself. “But then I fucked up on one of the jobs and landed my ass in a Quraci prison – for what would have been a life sentence, if Jay-bird hadn’t felt guilty about suggesting the whole paid freedom fighter thing to me in the first place.”

Dick stared at him in shock. “You _what_!?”

Roy chuckled. “Yeah, it _was_ as bad as it sounds. The worst part was that the Quracis knew about me and Cheshire. I was an easy target for their revenge against her, guess they never got the memo that if they’d actually _told_ her they were torturing me, she’d probably just consider it an early birthday present. She blames me for Lian.”

Dick kept his expression closed, but his voice gave his horror away. “… _Torture_ , Roy?”

“Aw, don’t bother dwelling on that, Dickie-bird. Prince More-Badass-than-Charming came through in the end. And, anyway, that’s not the point I was trying to make.” Roy smiled softly. “…Being in there gave me a lot of time to think – to miss things, miss living. Strange as it sounds, the worse my situation got, the more I started to realise that I didn’t really want to die, I just wanted to be _happy_. Everything outside of those prison walls suddenly seemed a thousand times more beautiful than I had ever realised. I didn’t understand how I could ever have lost sight of that. You really don’t know what you have until it’s gone, I guess.”

He gave Dick a serious look. “See – the problem with us is that we give life this whole grand design that it doesn’t actually have. We talk about lives being _wasted_ and callings being _missed_ … No wonder it’s so damn easy to consider ending it all when we don’t feel like we’re living for some higher purpose, you know? I mean, look at the jar, for instance. It’s pointless, but it’s beautiful. Why should it lose any of its worth just because it isn’t actually useful? Why should we live our lives for our jobs, or our relationships, or our beliefs, and _only_ those things? Why can’t we live them for that movie we really wanted to watch, or that album we were waiting for, and have them mean just as much?

“I walked into Qurac having lost Lian and with her my reason to stay alive. But I walked out full of new reasons. I wanted to see the stars again. I wanted to eat ice-cream. I wanted my photos of her, so I could at least have the memories, if not my daughter back.”

He contemplated their hands. “I want to surround you with beautiful things,” he confessed in half a whisper. “I remember how bad things got, Dick – and I pray you never remember what rock bottom feels like ever again, but just in case. I want you to have a shit ton of reasons to keep going. Even if it’s just to see some pointless decoration catch the sunlight in the morning again.”

Dick’s hands tightened around his. He hung his head, so Roy couldn’t read his expression. “Thank you,” he finally said, voice heavy. “Not… just for that. You were there for me when I needed it most, Roy, and I… just. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Roy brushed his lips against the side of Dick’s head, not quite a kiss. He smiled. “Shut up, Short-Pants. I did promise.”

* * *

**then**

He woke up to the sound of a soft voice singing a familiar melody. Roy fought the pull of sleep and turned on his side so he could hear it better, the words quiet but clear: _He floats through the air with the greatest of ease, the daring young man on the flying trapeze, his movements were graceful, all the girls he does please, and my love he has taken away_ …

Roy recognised the song from the old Popeye cartoon, but he knew where Dick, on the other hand, had learned it.

He sighed. The wounds on his stomach still hurt like a bitch – fucking _Cheshire_ – but he ignored the pain and kicked away the sheets to follow Dick’s voice into the next room. He’d always had a sweet natural voice; mellow, lilting tenor, haunting almost, perfect for lullabies and folk music. Roy was more musically inclined, but he couldn’t sing like that for shit.

He stopped at the doorway just to admire how domestic Dick looked, how gentle, as he rocked Lian back and forth in his arms, singing her to sleep. The moonlight outside hid half of his face in shadow and lit the other half up like a subdued, distant spotlight. Lian had her tiny little fist curled around one of his fingers, and though he had to have sensed that Roy was watching, he never took his eyes off her, smiling down with as much love as Roy himself would have done if he were holding her.

Dick let the last line of his song fade away. “…She’s so small,” he whispered, like it was a miracle.

 _I love you,_ Roy thought, suddenly, feverishly. His heart ached, his throat swelled. _Holy fuck_ … _I do. I really do._

What he said was, “I know. She feels so… fragile, vulnerable, it’s terrifying.” He stepped closer to Dick, holding his arms out for his daughter. “I just had to get her away from Jade. I know I’m only marginally a better choice, but… Jade would do worse. Lian would grow up learning how to kill.” _Right? I_ … _I did the right thing._

It was easier to rationalise than to believe that it was true.

“You’ll be a great father,” Dick replied, with the kind of confidence in his voice that he always used when he reassured Roy of his own worth, that sometimes made Roy wonder if he was either delusional or just plain obstinate. “You know how I know?”

“How?”

“The fact that you’re worried about being a bad one.” Dick smiled.

Roy didn’t deny it. He laughed without humour, staring down at Lian, feeling the same way he used to do before missions – terrified, but determined to see it through and succeed. “All I want is to do right by her, Dick.”

“You will,” Dick whispered. “You won’t believe me, but you will. I promise. We’ll help you.”

Roy chuckled, low and self-deprecating. “What is it with you? Every other person who’s known me for as long as you have knows not to expect much from me. Knows that I’m a screw-up. But you… you always…”

“You need a better mirror, if that’s really all you ever see, Roy. Or better eyesight.” Dick shook his head. “A screw-up? How many times have you put your life on the line for your teammates? For Ollie? Roy, you battled drug addiction and _won_. You risked everything to come out here and find your daughter just to give her a better life – the life she deserves. With _you_.”

Roy swallowed. “Don’t make it sound like it was so heroic. I lied to you, remember? …To _you_ , Dick.”

Dick met his eyes, something discerning in his own, like he understood how hard it had been, how much it had hurt Roy to do that to him, which shouldn’t have been possible.

“…Exactly, Roy,” he said with a bittersweet smile. “Exactly.”

* * *

**now**

Dick paused in front of the closed door to his bedroom, a hand on the door-handle, looking as close to flustered as a Bat could look for some inconceivable reason. “What?” Roy asked, curious. Dick had said he’d take him to his gift, so Roy didn’t see the need for him to stall any longer.

“…Nothing.” Dick all but mumbled. Then he seemed to steel himself, and let out a breath like a nervous laugh. “Your present. I’m starting to think I should have maybe… not gotten you this.”

Roy blinked. “Why not?”

“It’s kind of, uh. Big?” Dick avoided his eyes. “As in… big enough to… suggest something.”

“You’re making no sense, Robbie.”

Dick sighed. “It just occurred to me that getting you something that isn’t very… mobile… might be the same as giving you a spare key to the apartment, or something.” He stopped, then jerked his head up and gave Roy a horrified look. “Not that I’m saying— that’s not a _bad_ thing— but you said we were going to talk— and I know I tend to scare people off, I’ve been told, something about— being bad with emotional distance, and that I get intense about things that don’t necessarily—”

“Dick.” Roy cut him off, chuckling. “You know that thing you do, where you over-think things because you were born with a guilt complex the size of Gotham City and then you send yourself on a spiral of negativity until you get close to a fucking nervous breakdown? Yeah, you’re doing it right now, precious. _Breathe_.”

Dick laughed, though it still sounded nervous. “…Sorry. Okay, so. I _was_ going to get you an album instead, but I only remember, like, three bands that you like, and I’m pretty sure you already own all the stuff by The Doors and Red Hot Chilli Peppers and The Clash, anyway, so— I got you these, instead.” Breathing in, bracing himself, he twisted the handle of the door and pushed it open. “I understand if you don’t like it.”

Roy’s mouth fell open.

Snare, bass, cymbals, toms – the whole kit. A drum set. Dick had bought him a drum set.

“…Roy?” Dick said tentatively, once the silence had become uncomfortable. “Is it too much?”

Roy didn’t answer; he simply turned around and pulled Dick into a crushing hug. He was pretty sure that if he tried to speak, he would burst into tears, and that would just be embarrassing.

* * *

**then**

“—So, yeah, he’ll be landing in New York in about, seven to eight hours from now,” Roy whispered into his phone. Dick was outside playing with Lian, but still – just in case. “You think you could surprise him? He’s missed you a lot.”

Kory made a sound that Roy assumed was the Tamaranean equivalent of _Aw_ ; it sounded pretty close. “You boys are sweet to each other. Of course I can. I’ve missed him also.”

Roy smiled. “Great. He’s done so much to help here, Kory, I can’t think of a big enough gesture to thank him, you know? Though I hope this’ll be good, for a start. You’re a lucky lady. Don’t let go of this one.”

“Oh, never.” Kory laughed. Then her voice became teasing: “But Mr. Roy Harper, I seem to remember that only months ago you were telling him that _he’s_ the lucky man.”

“Hey, that’s still true, too.” Roy chuckled, playful. “You want me to lecture him about not letting you go, too? ’Cause I would do that. He can be stupid about his own happiness sometimes.”

Kory sighed. “How do you say it on Earth, is it… tell me about it?”

“…Sounds about right, gorgeous. Sounds about right.”

A laugh. “Well – it was good to hear from you again, Roy. I’ll see to things at the airport, okay? I must go now. Bye!”

She hung up, and not a minute too soon; Dick walked into the room with Lian in his arms. “Hi, baby!” Roy cooed at his daughter, delighted when she gurgled right back and leaned towards him. Dick passed her to him with an affectionate smile when Roy held her so close that he was effectively squishing their cheeks together.

“Adorable,” Dick said, eyes soft. “Roy, I meant it when I said that I’d come and help after the hearing, alright? I promise you’ll have the best lawyers on your side, so don’t worry. She’ll be Lian Harper in no time.”

“I could kiss you,” Roy answered, not entirely joking. “Thanks, Dick.”

“Don’t,” Dick chided, though there wasn’t any actual bite to it. “It’s what friends…” he paused, reconsidered the word. “It’s what… we do for each other.”

Roy caught that and felt his heart attempt a somersault. He grinned. “Yeah.”

The lull between their conversation seemed meaningful all of a sudden, like it should have been filled with formalities and goodbyes but wanted to be filled with other words entirely. “Dick,” Roy said, dropping his usual levity, “I really owe you. I mean it. This isn’t even the first time you’ve saved my ass. If you ever need me… I swear I’ll be there for you. No matter what.”

It wasn’t worth much coming from him, he knew; Dick was so much stronger and smarter and he had Bruce and Alfred and the new Robin and the Titans and _Kory_ who made him so, so happy – but Roy meant it with all his heart. He would go to the ends of the earth for Dick Grayson, if he only asked.

“I’ll remember that.” Dick smiled. “Thank you.” He leaned down and gave Lian a quick kiss. “And I’ll see you again real soon, little stranger.”

Roy made her wave her arm. “Bye-Bye, Uncle Dick!”

* * *

**now**

When Roy stepped out of the shower, he found Dick reading in bed. “Scoot over,” he said, and threw himself down next to Dick, with enough force to make Dick bounce and then throw him an annoyed look. Roy grinned. Except the annoyance eventually disappeared and Dick was _still_ looking at him, and not even in the way that used to mean fun times were coming.

“…Uh… what?” Roy blinked, more than a little self-conscious. He _was_ still shirtless, after all.

Dick turned away. Laughed. “Nothing.” He set _Robin Hood_ aside. “Your piercing. It’s disappeared.”

“Oh.” Roy tugged at the lobe of his ear in reflex. “Closed up, I guess.”

“And you have… newer scars.” Dick hesitated, leaned forward, and traced the bullet-shaped ones down his chest to his stomach. “I know these…” he stopped at the stark white one below Roy’s ribs – a short line where a blade had almost skewered him – “I don’t know this one.” He raised another hand to Roy’s shoulder. He had to twist to reach it, so he was now essentially on top of Roy. “Or this one.”

Roy held Dick’s waist in his hands, tentative, ready to back away at the first sign of rejection; and then more purposeful when Dick did not tense up.

“Why does it bother me so much that there’s this whole chunk of time where our lives didn’t intersect…? It’s not like that never happened before.” A crease appeared between his eyes. “I don’t know the stories behind your scars anymore.” He laughed, bitter. “And Jason probably does.”

“I’m not sure whether to be proud or terrified of the fact that you’re being so honest. Especially about him.”

Dick shrugged. “Like you haven’t figured it out years ago.”

“True.” Roy gave him a conceding nod. “ _Your_ father-figure. _Your_ name. _Your_ uniform. And now… _your_ ex-girlfriend. _Your_ ex-boyfriend.”

“Clancy says it’s because he loves me. Admiration, imitation: same thing, apparently. I know she’s the one with the psychology degree, but I just don’t believe her.”

Roy traced the contours of Dick’s face with the back of his finger. “He does.”

Dick breathed out a laugh. “The kid who I treated like crap for no fault of his own, who probably died believing his own family didn’t care enough to save him as a result, loves me? Then again, you just said _ex-boyfriend_ , and I never treated you like a boyfriend should treat you when we were together. So I guess there just isn’t any justice left in the world.”

“Okay, from one person prone to getting really absorbed in himself to the other, though?” Roy smiled kindly. “You have a handle on what your faults are, Dick. But your faults don’t define you. And the fact that you feel sorry? Counts. Believe me.”

Dick swallowed. “…I am, you know. Sorry. I really am. Back then, I— I took a lot out on you, and you never deserved that.”

Roy smiled, soft, accepting. “Broken hearts have sharp edges. I just happened to be close enough to get cut. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t excuse it.”

“No. But it helps.” Roy took in a breath, steadied himself. “Dick? I don’t want things between us to be like you and Wally. And don’t give me that look, you two were about as obvious as a giant penguin. Making eyes at each other during every goddamn mission. I’m not stupid.” He huffed, amused. “He kept hiding and explaining away his feelings for you until he found Linda and it got too late. And now you’re stuck in this… weird limbo where you love him a lot and he loves you a lot but you both found love that is just as meaningful in other people as well. So now he does more-than-friend things for you and you do more-than-friend things for him but you’re not together and you never will be? Yeah, that. I don’t want that. Ever.”

Dick arched an eyebrow. “… _More-than-friend things_?”

“Jesus. Don’t be juvenile. – Hah, surprising coming from me. No, I meant, like, he started a team for you.”

“But you did that too.”

Roy shrugged. “My point exactly.”

Dick chuckled, grudging but conceding at the same time.

“I don’t want my feelings for you to go unsaid like that,” Roy continued. “Or yours for me, if you have them.”

Dick met his eyes, his own fever-bright. He took Roy’s good hand in his, and pressed the palm of it against his cheek. “I do.” He closed his eyes. “But I still don’t think I’m ready, for… what you aren’t asking from me because for some reason you want to let me get away with everything. And that isn’t fair to you, and I…” He shook his head, no longer able to find words for it.

Roy kissed his hair. “I stand by what I said. I’m not going to pressure you into the kind of relationship that – yeah – I’d like us to have. More than anything, I want you to be happy, Dick. And if that is not… with me, then fine, it’s not. Besides, I know how important it is to you – being in control. So, yeah. Ball’s in your court, and all that.”

For some reason, Dick’s eyes flew open at that, and he looked… anything but okay. “Roy, when— when we were— you know— I had someone. Before. She— I was not. In control. And like you said, I…” his words fell away, and he looked vaguely sick. “…Never mind, I… don’t think I can talk about it.”

Roy ran a thumb across his cheek in comforting circles, deeply concerned. “So there _was_ something you weren’t telling me.”

Dick nodded with a laugh like it was startled out of him, humourless and wet. “I haven’t told anyone. Except Clancy. But she couldn’t… make it better. Not really. You just get used to things. It’s amazing what you can get used to if you wait it out.”

“…Yeah, I know.” Roy smiled, bittersweet. “Sometimes… before I wake up… I can feel a little weight, just bouncing on my knees. I hear a voice laughing and shouting, _Daddy, wake up_. And it’s heaven. But I open my eyes and she isn’t there. It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.” He swallowed. “People keep telling me I’ll get over it one day, and I never do. I just learn to live with it. The pain, the… memories.”

Dick nodded slowly. “…That, um. That sounds accurate. Yeah.”

They fell quiet, the silence comforting and easy, and Roy traced his fingers up and down Dick’s spine, until Dick rolled over to lie by Roy’s side instead. “So – you don’t want a relationship,” Roy confirmed.

“No.”

“But you don’t want me to leave.”

Dick turned on his side, one of his hands reaching for Roy’s. “…No.” And then he swore, which he rarely did. “It’s… wrong. Unfair. I don’t know what you see in me.” He tugged at Roy until Roy met his eyes, which were serious, if rather sad. “Roy – if you meet someone before I make a decision, o-or if you patch things up with Jason, I’ll understand.”

“…Robbie, I wouldn’t mind—”

“No, don’t. Please, you’ll break my heart.” Dick laughed, humourless. “Promise me. If someone can make you happier, leave. Don’t even stop to think twice.”

“I…” Roy could see the desperation written in his eyes, and Dick so rarely showed all of his emotions like that, which was what made Roy crack in the end. “I promise,” he whispered. He turned on his side, pulled Dick close. “But you have to promise, too.”

Dick mumbled something that sounded a lot like, _Who would make me happier?_ – which couldn’t be right, so Roy asked, “What?”

“Nothing.” Dick shut his eyes and edged closer to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …I’m aware that Roy sounds very pop psychology in this one, but let’s just chalk it up to him having been around Mr. “Straight Outta Arkham” for so long.
> 
> Please leave kudos, bookmark the fic, type up a comment, or subscribe if you liked it!
> 
> I’m on Tumblr as anelderling. Come say hi, I don’t bite. Not unprovoked, anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashbacks in this chapter are set somewhere between Titans Vol. 2 and… I don’t know, Dick becoming Batman, I guess? The timeline is skewed as usual, whatever.
> 
> There is a brief scene where some asshole is being homophobic in here, be warned.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

He was an insensitive, unthinking a-hole. And it may have been one thing for the idea to be slapped across his face by girlfriend after girlfriend but it was another thing entirely to see the proof of it himself.

Or to hear it, rather. Dick cringed as a jarring sound found its way into the kitchenette, closer to pots and pans hitting the ground from a big height than to anything remotely resembling music. As dick-ish as it sounded (his inner Robin cheered at the pun), he had completely forgotten to consider Roy’s prosthetic arm when he’d bought the drums. Roy had been driven to the brink of depression just from having to re-learn his bow and arrows with that thing; how much worse would it be now, having to re-learn his favourite hobby, of all things?

Oliver had been right about him all those years ago – every time he tried to do something good for Roy, he always ended up hurting him instead.

He sighed. Abandoning his attempts at cooking what passed for a wholesome meal, for once – since he had a live-in guest now and all – he followed the sound into his bedroom, and pushed the door open, careful to be quiet. The look of frustration on Roy’s face said it all, and between every beat Dick watched him pause to fix his metal arm. There was a look of determined focus on his face as he brought the drumsticks down, listening for mistakes so that he could presumably adjust the weight that he put into his good shoulder and his other one till he found the perfect balance that would make the sound come out right.

It didn’t look like fun; that much was for sure.

Dick cleared his throat to let Roy know that he was there. The crease between Roy’s eyebrows almost instantly disappeared, and Roy gave Dick that charming crooked smile of his. “Almost got it,” he lied. “Man, it feels great to play again.”

Dick worried at the inside of his lower lip between his teeth, remorseful. “You don’t have to pretend, Roy.”

Roy chuckled, sheepish. “…Okay, so it’s not exactly perfect. I’ll get there, though.”

Times like these, Dick wondered how anyone ever bought that he was different from Bruce – more sociable, easier with his words and his feelings. He couldn’t think of what to say to Roy aside from _Please don’t be miserable, please don’t be miserable, please don’t be miserable_ – although at least saying that much would be honest. “Do you… want to go out tonight?” he blurted out, and even as the words fell, he realised that it was actually not a bad idea. The surest way to cheering up an unhappy man: bars, booze and strangers’ beds.

Roy looked equal parts curious and pleasantly surprised. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Dick shrugged. “I can get someone to cover for us on patrol again. Tim, Cass, Damian. Whoever has the time.”

Roy whistled, teasing. “So he _does_ know how to have fun. Alright. Is this a date?”

Dick blinked, bit back a smile. He had to give Roy credit for persistence, at least. “…Do you want it to be a date?”

“You know I do.” Roy grinned. “I was teasing, though. Relax. You still get to have your Roy and not date him, too.” He laughed at his little joke, oblivious even as Dick’s heart clenched.

He tugged Roy’s good hand up, brushed his lips against his palm. “Stop spoiling me, my treasure,” Dick whispered.

* * *

**then**

There was something surreal about being there, on that unmapped little stretch of beach that Roy loved so much, sitting on the sands and watching Roy chase his daughter across the surf. Dick breathed in, out. Hadn’t he just been buried alive less than a week ago? Kicking at solid wood, struggling to breathe, wondering if that was half the terror that Jason had felt when he… when he had…

He closed his eyes, reminding himself to breathe again. That was then, and this was now. This was real. He visualised Clancy’s office, imagined her voice, telling him how to ground himself. The sky was blue, the surf was white, the sand shone like the sunlight that touched it. He was here, Roy was here, this was real, real, real.

“Uncle Dick?” He glanced up and met Lian’s curious frown. “Uncle Dick, come play,” she said, tugging at his finger.

The touch of her skin helped, and he gave her a little smile. “In a minute, sweetheart,” he promised. “Uncle Dick’s not feeling so good right now.”

Roy had waded up behind Lian in time to hear them. “…You okay?” He asked, a worried crease appearing between his eyebrows. He knelt in the sand and touched the back of his palm to Dick’s forehead. “I’m going to run up to the car and get us some water, yeah? Wait with Lian.” He pressed a short kiss where his hand had been and then went off to do exactly that.

“You look sad,” said Lian, pouting as if the idea hurt her more than it hurt Dick. Helplessly touched, Dick pulled her down onto his lap and held her tight.

“I’m not sad.” He smiled. “Why would I be sad when I’m with my two favourite people in the world, hmm?”

Lian giggled. “Uncle Dick, are you and Daddy boyfriends?”

Dick stiffened. Lian had tilted her head all the way back to look at him, a smile full of innocence on her face. “…No, Lian. What… made you think that?”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Well… because you come over a lot and some nights you stay. And you and Daddy hold hands like Andrew’s Dad and Papa do. A-And Daddy kisses you on the mouth sometimes? I know he does, even though I asked and he said there was ice-cream on your lips that one time. I mean, that’s just stupid.” She bounced a little. “And Daddy calls you _babe_ and you call him _my treasure_ but you say it real quiet. I heard you.”

“…Did you, now.” Dick tickled her to avoid answering further, laughing along when she shrieked and twisted, delighted. “You know what you are? You’re a curious little kitten, that’s what.”

“Having fun without me?” Roy grinned, back with two bottles of water. He handed one to Dick, sitting down next to them with a contented sigh. Lian started yawning, and he gestured at his lap. She obeyed – stretched, and laid her head down across it. Dick reached over and ran his fingers through her hair, singing her his mother’s lullabies: _Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot, prête-moi ta plume, pour écrire un mot_ …

Once she had drifted off to sleep, Roy leaned closer to Dick and held him with one arm across his shoulders. “Your French pronunciation is as flawless as a native speaker’s, do you realise? Not that I’m an expert, though.”

“Oh.” Dick laughed under his breath. “I guess that’s natural. My mother moved around a lot, but she spent most of her life in Paris.” She, his father, and circus life as a whole had passed many languages down to him: English, Russian, Polish, some Albanian, some Spanish, some Hebrew. No Italian, weirdly enough. And in the Vlax dialect of his Kalderash ancestors he knew how to say _Sastipe_ and _Sar san?_ and _Miro nav si o Richard Grayson_ and _Hačarav_ even if he really didn’t. A couple of proverbs, a couple of blessings, a couple of curses.

Citizen of the world. Homesick.

“Were your grandparents French or something?” Roy asked, in a whisper so as not to wake Lian.

Dick hummed, contemplative. “I don’t think so? From what I remember being told, the Graysons were a bunch of conservative bigots and Dad very literally ran away with the circus to escape.”

“Your mom’s parents, then.”

“…Uh, doubtful. Auschwitz. Concentration camps, Roy.”

“Shit.” Roy flinched. “Sorry.”

Dick nodded. “What about yours?”

“Somewhere in Ireland.” Roy shrugged. “I never really felt the need to go digging about my biological family. I mean, the other Navajo kids my age already thought I didn’t belong, you know? I spent half my life trying to prove them wrong, so, that would’ve just been counterproductive.” He fell quiet. “My mom’s probably still alive, whoever she is.”

“Is that weird? Knowing something like that?” Dick whispered.

Roy shook his head and smiled, soft. “I’ve got all the family I need right here.” He leaned forward and Dick closed his eyes, letting his lips fall open for Roy’s. The kiss was slow and comforting, and Dick felt lighter in his heart when it was over.

“What went wrong today?” Roy asked, concern in his eyes.

Dick smiled, bittersweet. “…Nothing. I had a good day. That’s the problem, I think.” He sighed. “Whenever things are this peaceful, I can’t help waiting for that— proverbial _other shoe_ to drop. I keep— feeling like I’m some kind of impostor. Playing pretend. Like I have a right to a normal life.”

“Dick…” Roy sounded devastated. He took Dick’s hand where it had been resting still tangled up in Lian’s hair and squeezed, firm, consoling. “Tell me how I can help. Tell me what you need.”

Dick shut his eyes tight, his hand trembling in Roy’s. “…Hold me,” he whispered, pleading.

Roy’s grip around his shoulders grew tighter, and he peppered the side of Dick’s face with kisses. Dick turned, and let them find his lips instead. There was something comforting in how he was effectively being cradled under Roy’s muscled arm, how he was being crowded by Roy’s large body. It made him feel small and safe in a way that he hadn’t felt since the day Bruce had kicked him out all those years ago. “…Speedy,” he whispered against Roy’s lips, relishing in the familiar name, in the memories of childhood innocence that it brought along with it. “You know, I— think I—” _do love you like that_.

The words got stuck in his throat and he backed away, feeling hollow.

“Robbie…?” Roy nudged at his chin. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing.” Dick shook his head and smiled. “I think I forgot my phone in the car. Let’s head back?”

* * *

**now**

Dick drank the gin and tonic in careful sips, eyes riveted past the flashing strobe lights of the club and near the bathrooms where Roy had cornered a skimpily-dressed woman and was working his charm on her. If he paced himself, he would only feel a pleasant buzz, not get drunk. It would help him take his mind off of Roy and that woman, in any case.

He sighed. This was what he had wanted for Roy – for Roy to meet someone, go to their place, have some fun – but he hadn’t expected to feel so miserable about it. Unlike Roy, who was kind of a cliché bisexual stereotype in that sense, with his not-quite-monogamous approach to sex and relationships in general, Dick was a one-woman (or man) man, and… he did get jealous if his partner flirted around.

The problem being, of course, that Roy _wasn’t_ his partner, and he had no right.

Feeling ashamed, Dick kept his eyes on Roy and tried hard to ignore the sight of Roy’s lady-friend. Roy had made an effort tonight. He was wearing a muscle shirt, with a leather jacket over it, draped across his shoulders so that it had the double effect of hiding his civilian prosthetic and making him look that much more old-school rock chic. It wasn’t obvious from that distance, but Dick knew that his eyes were also lined with kohl, something that Roy hadn’t done since his Great Frog days.

The instant Dick had noticed it, his mind had screamed _seventeen_ even though his eyes had insisted _twenty-seven_. He’d fallen in love all over again.

Roy was leaning in close to the woman, now, so Dick turned, not wanting to see them kiss. He placed his tumbler, still half-full, down on the bar. A curvy woman sidled over next to him, batting her eyelashes. “Well, hello. You here alone, handsome?” She flashed him a winning smile.

She was clearly drunk, he thought. She leaned in close enough for him to feel her breasts press against his arm. Close enough that she could have reached over and… touched him—

“No,” he answered – it came out too sharp, and he couldn’t correct his tone in time. The woman, startled, glared at him, and stormed back to her group of friends. Dick considered apologising, but he decided against it in the end – she might think that he was interested. He wasn’t.

This was what Dick hated most about bars and nightclubs. People tended to act terrifyingly entitled to his body _all_ the time, but here, it was – to a certain extent – socially acceptable. He closed his eyes, feeling nauseated. For Roy, he thought. Bear with it. For Roy.

When he opened them again, Roy was in front of him, staring. Dick jumped. “You’re drinking?” Roy asked, eyebrows raised.

“…Just the one,” Dick said, confused, gesturing vaguely at his tumbler. “Wait, didn’t you— weren’t you just— did that lady turn you down or something?”

Roy shrugged. “Rosalinda. She didn’t.”

“Then how come you’re here?”

“Did you think I was going home with someone tonight? And leave you all by your lonesome, looking the way you look? Please.” Roy grinned, but Dick noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey.” Dick took his hand. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Roy looked like he was about to brush it off, but there must have been something visibly earnest in Dick’s eyes because his shoulders slumped, defeated. “I…” Roy paused. He took the barstool next to Dick, and leaned in close enough for no one else to be able to hear them. “I guess I’m kind of nervous. About sleeping with someone. I mean… the way I am, right now.”

“The way you are?” Dick frowned, lost.

Roy chuckled. It didn’t sound amused. He shrugged off his leather jacket by the slightest inch and gestured at his prosthetic. Dick understood, and felt a sharp pang run through his heart.

“I’d still want you,” he insisted, fierce. “I would. I _do_.”

“…Do you, now.” Roy hummed, his good hand playing with Dick’s fingers where they were still intertwined in his. “I wouldn’t be able to hold you like I used to.”

“It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“It would.” Roy laughed under his breath. “Come on. Let’s not do this right now. We’re here to have fun, yeah? Come dance with me.”

Dick swallowed, unsure whether to push or not. But tonight _was_ supposed to be about cheering Roy up, so he gave him a reluctant smile and let him pull him to his feet. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the bartender giving them a wary look, and sure enough, when Roy curled an arm around his waist, the man scowled and made his way to them from the opposite end of the counter.

“Hey.” He growled. “Take it somewhere else, huh? We don’t cater to your kind here.”

Dick flushed with anger. He would have done something reckless if Roy hadn’t grabbed his arm firmly. “Fuck you, that’s not even legal!” Roy glared. “It’s not legal. Hey, did you guys hear what he just said?”

A few of the people gathered around the bar started muttering and shouting, furious, including the curvy woman from earlier. “What an asshole—!” “I’m going to mention this in my review, you hear me? I’m going to post it all over the internet!”

“Let’s get out of here,” Roy said, seething. “I’m not giving any more of my money to a place that would hire someone like him.”

They stepped out into the noise and the night, Roy with his arm pointedly slung across Dick’s shoulders. “You’ve got to admit, though,” he said with a grudging smile, “That was a better reaction from the witnesses than we would have got if that had happened when we were eighteen… hell, or even twenty. God bless the kids’ generation, huh?”

Dick huffed. “Don’t, you’re making me feel old. We’re not even thirty.” He leaned into Roy’s half-embrace, glancing up at him with an apologetic look. “Did that ruin your night?”

“What are you talking about? It’s not even past twelve.” Roy grinned, a playful light in his eyes. “ _And_ you owe me a dance. Come on, Short-Pants. Show me what else Bludhaven has to offer.”

* * *

**then**

“—I’m just saying, you _are_ kind of obsessed with that night,” Roy was saying, a maddening smirk pulling at one corner of his lips. “You keep bringing it up.” Laughter. “You _do_. It’s telling, if you ask me.”

“…Shut up,” Dick mumbled, trying to suppress his own laugh. “All I said was _what if_ , Roy. _What if_ you hadn’t been a monumental idiot and just freaking asked me out the morning after. God.”

Roy idly traced circles into Dick’s naked shoulder, grinning. “The fact that you even _have_ a what if scenario—”

“You’re insufferable.” Dick couldn’t find the energy to put any actual bite to it, though, pleasantly wrung out as he was from the pleasure that Roy had given him moments ago. “Alright, fine, so I do still think about it. You left me with unresolved feelings and an eternal preference for redheads and Irish accents— what do you expect? It’s one of my better memories. A real— freaking, Cinderella night or whatever.” He chuckled. “There. You happy?”

“Isn’t that the wrong Disney princess for you, though, Esmeralda?”

Dick swatted at the arm holding him. “Shut up, Pocahontas.”

Roy laughed, delighted. “Not going to lie, though, that would make for one hell of an attractive couple.”

Dick kissed him, just to shut him up. Using a hand on Roy’s sweat-slick chest as leverage, he pushed himself off the bed, and started feeling around for his clothes. He could feel Roy’s eyes on him, all but burning holes into the side of his head. He never asked Dick to stay. Dick sometimes wondered if he wanted to.

He smiled. “Give Lian a kiss from me.”

“You got it. Oh, your keys are on the kitchen table.”

Dick finished pulling his boots on and stood, bending down to give Roy one last kiss. “Thank you. I’ll see you at Titans Tower tomorrow?”

“Sure, boss. Drive safe.”

He had stepped out of the house, and was just about to get on his motorcycle, when the truck drove in from the opposite direction. Oliver parked, hopped out, and gave him a smile and a nod. “Dick. Is Roy in?”

“Yeah, uh, but I think he’s sleeping.” Dick smiled back, shrugged. He started the ignition and had been about to pull his helmet on, but Oliver stepped closer instead of heading for the door. Dick frowned.

“You’re looking better, these days, kid,” Oliver said. There was a strange quality to his smile, now. “We were all afraid you were right on the edge of a breakdown, for a while, there. No shame in it, though. We’re only human, huh? Can’t all be like our superpowered friends. Or Bruce, for that matter.”

“I _feel_ better,” Dick answered politely, although his mind was sounding alarm bells. “Therapy helped.”

Oliver nodded, amiable but… calculating. “Roy did, too, I’ll bet.”

Dick felt twelve years old again all of a sudden, like he should be calling Oliver “Mr. Queen” instead of “Ollie”, like he should be bracing for a lecture because something expensive broke while he and Roy had been playing. “He’s a good friend,” he answered carefully. “Always has been.”

Oliver laughed. Dick tried not to flinch, at how fake it sounded. “Yeah, my boy’s got a thing about loyalty. Especially towards you kids. He loves you brats, he does— would do anything for you.” He paused, a shrewd look on his face as he met Dick’s eyes with purpose. “Trouble is, though, he gives _so much_ , you know? I worry that he might not… get all of it back. See what I mean?”

And there it was. Dick cut the ignition, planting his feet on the lawn again, lips pursed, eyes narrow. “…If you’ve got something to say to me, Ollie, just say it.”

Oliver shrugged. “I got nothing but respect for you, Dick— same as everyone else in the business, yeah? You’ve been at it for so long that you’ve been collectively adopted by us old-timers and adored by the newer bunch. It’s a fact, like it or not.” He paused. “But this thing that you’ve got going with my son… well, I can’t in good conscience say that I’m thrilled about it.”

“It’s not a _thing_.”

Oliver chuckled, indulgent. “My point exactly.” He released a slow sigh. “The thing about Roy, Dick, is that people tend to think that he’s got no feelings because he knows how to put on a tough act, likes to fool around now and then. You know? But the truth of it is, he’s all heart. Might not always seem like it, but— he is. And I see the way he looks at you— it’s love, plain and simple. Look, Roy— he likes to keep it casual most of the time, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t fall. ’Cause I know that look, kid, I’ve seen it on myself once. He’s fallen for you. Fallen hard.”

Dick arched an eyebrow. “Has it occurred to you that you haven’t said anything that I don’t already know yet?”

“Then what are you, sadistic?” Oliver retorted. “Roy’s given you his heart, but I happen to know, for a fact, that yours is in the hands of that pretty little redheaded mini-Bruce in the wheelchair who’s wearing a ring with your name on it around her neck, yeah? What’s going to happen to my boy when you decide to put it to use, I wonder.”

Dick felt the pall from the beach looming over his mind again, leaving him hollow, drowning. “I… I’m not doing anything that Roy doesn’t want. He’s an adult. He can make his own decisions.”

Oliver looked almost pitying. “…Good ones?”

Skirting the edge of the precipice. Falling over. “What is this, Ollie? You think that if you overcompensate, and start minding Roy’s business for him, you can erase the past? You think he’s going to forget how you fucking abandoned him when he needed you most?”

“See, now that’s a low blow. But all it tells me is that you’re feeling cornered.” Oliver placed a hand on his shoulder in an almost fatherly gesture that left Dick feeling vaguely nauseated. “Look, son – I believe that you care about him in your own way. So act like it. I… understand that this is what Roy may want right now, but you know as well as I do that it’ll only hurt him in the end. So break it off in time, minimise the damage. Yeah? Do what’s best for him. You do want that, right? …Right, Dick?”

There were words, desperate words, a million of them, stuck in his throat, but he didn’t dare let them out. _But he loves me,_ he wanted to scream at Ollie. _He loves me and not because I’m the light to his darkness or his brother, guardian, mentor, example or a trusted member of the community and you don’t understand, nobody loves me like that nobody and I want it goddamn it I need it I_—

“I have to go.” He said it hoarsely, going through the motions of pulling his helmet on and kick-starting his motorcycle. Ollie didn’t try to stop him, so he drove off. Of course, the decision would eventually be made for him by Bruce’s death, when all of his attention would be on trying to keep his brothers from killing each other and Gotham from descending into chaos and himself from falling apart under the grief that he wouldn’t even be allowed to pause and acknowledge. It would just be a simple matter of… not finding _time_ for Roy and Lian anymore, and then Lian would… she would…

He didn’t know all of that yet, but, racing home in a desperate attempt to leave the heaviness in his heart behind, he almost felt an inkling.

* * *

**now**

The short woman with the multicoloured Mohawk in front of the entrance shoved a box full of buttons, pins and badges at him. “Evening, mister. Do a good deed? Buy something so we can get more blankets for the Haven’s LGBT homeless centre?”

Dick gave her a polite smile as he sifted through the trinkets and made a mental note to send a proper cheque their way, once he got home. He couldn’t decide between the bi pride pin and the trans pride pin, so he bought both, but then Roy swooped the bi one out of his hands and pinned it to his own jacket. “Hey!” Dick shoved him, indignant.

Roy only laughed and winked.

Shaking his head, Dick locked their fingers together, and together they pushed past the crowd around the bar to get to the centre, where couples were already dancing. They were free to love, here. Dick didn’t visit these places unless he had company, but he liked them.

“Well?” he asked, giving Roy a crooked smile and an arched eyebrow as he looped his arms around his neck.

“Better.” Roy smiled and reached for his waist. “Music’s a little _young_ for me, though.”

Dick hummed, noncommittal. He knew the song from Stephanie’s playlist – Roses by The Chainsmokers – it wasn’t bad. Mellow. Romantic. “…What you said, earlier…” Roy muttered.

“I meant it,” Dick cut him off. “You…” – _are so beautiful and it takes all of my willpower not to just give in and kiss you sometimes_ – “…Have no idea, Roy.”

Roy pressed their foreheads together, smiling softly. “I want to believe you.”

“It’s a start.” Dick smiled back, eyes sad. “Someone… um, once told me that I might have been trained to resist every kind of truth serum there is, but get even one drink in me and I’d spill all my secrets. So.”

“…Is that right.” Roy let out a breath like a laugh. “Thanks, Dick. For tonight. For everything. It was fun.”

“Yeah.” Dick paused. Considered him. Leaned up, lips parting.

Roy’s eyes grew wide and concerned and he backed away, making Dick stumble into his chest. Frowning, Dick glanced up at him, confusion and a little hurt in his eyes. “But I thought…?”

“No, I mean – you weren’t wrong,” Roy assured him, although he still sounded worried. “But after what you just said?”

“What, that I meant the thing from earlier?”

“No, that you’re not entirely sober.” Roy gave him a serious look. “…Dick, I’m honoured. I’d just rather you kiss me when your mind is clear enough to make a conscious decision to, yeah?”

Dick tilted his head, frowning. “Does it matter?”

He couldn’t understand the horror in Roy’s eyes, or why Roy suddenly pulled him close and clung to him like a drowning man to a lifeboat. “…Holy shit. Of course it does. Dick… it _always_ does.”

“…Oh.” Dick still couldn’t understand the urgent concern in Roy’s voice, but he held him back just to reassure him. “Okay, Roy. Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the Romani phrases: Hello, how are you, my name is Richard Grayson, I understand. In that order.
> 
> Remember, guys, the only way that I can know whether this thing sucks or not is if I get your feedback! So hit that kudos button or bookmark it or subscribe or leave a comment, yeah?
> 
> My Tumblr is anelderling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured since the flashbacks are set when the original Titans are around twelve-thirteen in this chapter, Bruce would have been younger, happier and less Bruce-ish enough to not mind hosting a bunch of precocious pups at Wayne Manor while he’s away. IDK.
> 
> In some versions of Dick’s origin story, Pop Haly dies, but we’ll ignore that for the purposes of this verse.
> 
> Onwards!

**then**

“I don’t get it,” Roy said, scowling at Wally, who was skipping the last few steps out of the manor with a triumphant little whoop. “What’s he so hyped about? This place gives me the creeps.”

Dick laughed to cover up the embarrassment that crawled up his gut and into his cheeks. “That’s a rude thing to say, isn’t it?” Still, he could feel the heat spreading across his face. How had he ever thought that spending the weekend at Wayne Manor while Bruce was away on his business trip would be even remotely close to Roy Harper’s definition of fun? Sure, Wally might seem to like it, but Wally liked being away from his house in general – liked _being with Dick_ in general.

Roy, on the other hand, had only just learnt his secret identity that year, along with Donna and Garth. Dick didn’t have the same kind of closeness that he did with Wally to build on.

“Anyway, isn’t the Queen Estate just as big?” Dick reasoned, eyebrows raised. “How come my place creeps you out more?”

“It’s not as _old_ ,” Roy answered. “And our grounds definitely get more sunlight than yours.”

“Oh. Well, that’s Gotham’s fault, not the manor’s.” Dick shrugged.

“Hey, come on, what’s taking you guys so long?” Wally yelled, already at the opposite end of the lawn. “Geez, _Alfred_ is faster than you!”

“Okay, already!” Dick called back, exasperated. He turned again and gave Roy’s hand a quick little tug. “Let’s go.”

“…I only came because I thought Donna would be here too,” Roy grumbled. Still, he followed after Dick, if not entirely obliging.

They’d been in the middle of a haphazard game of basketball that had somehow morphed into tag halfway through, when Alfred showed up, a tray of milkshakes and brownies in one hand and another tray with a wireless phone lying face down on it in the other. “Telephone call for you, Master Richard,” he said, serious as always; but Dick caught the little light in his eyes that meant that he had a good surprise waiting, and grinned.

“Thanks, Alfie!”

He snatched up the receiver. In the background, Wally was wolfing down one brownie after the other with a muffled, “This is delicious!” and Roy was saying, “I wish we had an Alfred,” grinning amiably. The corners of Alfred’s lips twitched at that and he replied, “In that case, you could always simply pay your visits more often, Master Harper, Master Wallace. The guest bedrooms see so little use and Master Richard does enjoy your company so…”

“Hello?” Dick said into the phone.

“Dickie? Is that you, son?”

His heart skipped a beat. “Pop!?”

“It’s him!” Pop Haly yelled at someone else, his voice distant. He was probably holding the phone away from himself, a hand over the receiver. “Oh, it’s good to hear your voice again, son…”

“It’s good to hear yours too, Pop!” Dick couldn’t stop smiling, eyes welling up against his best attempts at bravado. It had been _so long_. Alfred caught his eyes out of the corner of his own, and beamed in understanding. “How are you? How’s everyone?”

“Listen, uh, Dickie, that’s why I called. I would’ve done sooner, but it was hard to find a number I could reach you with and all…”

Dick listened, but it took a while for the news to sink in. Bruce had taught him how to focus on multiple situations at once and he vaguely noted that Roy and Wally were squabbling over the last brownie, and that Alfred barely noticed it because his eyes were on Dick, full of questions, concerned.

“—We’re currently in Sacramento, if you want to drive over, see how she is…”

“I can’t,” Dick answered. His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Bruce – Mr. Wayne isn’t here.” If the tabloids caught the news, if they could spin it so it sounded like he’d tried to run, if social services found the slightest excuse to take him away from Bruce…

“Oh dear. Oh, I shouldn’t have said nothing.” Pop sounded remorseful. “Now all you’re going to do is worry… well, don’t, Dickie, alright? We’ll take good care of her. Let you know if there’s any progress.”

If he said anything in answer or to end the conversation, Dick couldn’t recall. Dick handed the phone back to Alfred, his vision blurred, swimming. “What’s the matter? What’s happened?” Alfred asked, worried.

“…Dick?” Wally took a step closer to him, a hand stretched out, whether to give him a pat on the shoulder or to pull him into a hug, Dick couldn’t tell. All he knew was that nothing was okay and he wouldn’t be able to stand either.

He turned and ran.

* * *

**now**

A muffled _thump_ woke him from his light dozing. Dick glanced up, squinting in the direction of the half-open window. He registered the colours of Tim’s uniform under the light of the apartment opposite his, and sat up, surprised.

“Red Robin?”

“…I think I twisted my ankle,” Tim grumbled from the floor in answer.

Instantly on high alert, Dick swung his legs down and off the bed, and bent to reach for the first-aid kit that he kept underneath. Tim had taken his mask off and gave him a grateful half-smile as Dick bit off a piece of bandage, one hand cradling the foot in question. It was swollen; had twisted, alright. “What happened?”

Tim groaned and let his head hit the wall behind him. “It was stupid. I was planning on winding up patrol – Damian couldn’t make it, by the way, he’s got something with B – and so I started for home, but…” His cheeks turned vaguely rosy. “I passed by here and I thought I saw someone enter? And it wasn’t you, so I, uh, tried to get close enough to see _who_ it was, and…” He coughed, embarrassed. “I slipped, okay?”

Dick laughed. “Unfamiliar city, unfamiliar layout of rooftops – happens to the best of us, don’t worry. Even Bruce. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Tim gave him a grudging chuckle.

“Roy, can I get some ice in here, please?” Dick turned and called over his shoulder. Tim gave him a curious look, and Dick shrugged, smiled.

“So I _did_ see someone.”

“When have you ever been wrong about something like that?” Dick answered mildly.

Tim didn’t comment, but Dick caught his sharp eyes flick around the room once – all he needed to ascertain what _kind_ of company Dick had over, exactly – and then he said in a careful tone of voice, “When you asked us to cover for you again, I didn’t think it would be because of a… date?” It came out like a question.

Dick smiled, faux-innocent. “And how _is_ Conner Kent doing these days?”

Tim rolled his eyes. Huffed. “Touché.”

“Here. What do you need with ice—” Roy paused where he was standing at Dick’s bedroom door, his shoulder holding it open. He blinked quizzically at Tim, who raised a hand, casual.

“Hi,” Tim said. “Mia said you were back.”

“…Did… she.” Roy smiled, awkward. Dick beckoned him into the bedroom, shaking his head and smiling fondly, then took the bowl of ice from Roy’s hand, easing Tim’s injured ankle into it. Tim barely even flinched.

“Did you twist it?” Roy asked, eyebrows arched as he peered over Dick’s head. He whistled. “Doesn’t look like you can make it back on that foot tonight, kid.”

Dick and Tim exchanged a look. He was almost afraid to suggest it, but Dick refused to let that show in his voice as he said, “Stay over. I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

Tim seemed to contemplate it for a moment, head tilted. “Yeah. Okay,” he finally said.

Dick busied himself with bandaging his now ice-cold ankle so that he wouldn’t have to meet his brother’s eyes. “It’s not like you have a choice, anyway,” he ventured, tentative.

“…No, I want to.” Tim gave him a small smile, hesitant but kind. “I haven’t seen your new place yet, so. Um, where can I sleep?”

Dick hid his grateful smile. “This place really needs a guest room,” he said, regretful.

“You think?” Tim answered flatly, laughing a little. “You’re _Dick Grayson_. If anyone should be prepared to host at least a small army at any given moment…”

Roy, who had been watching their exchange like a spectator at a tennis match, head twisting back and forth in confusion, cleared his throat. “Take the couch. I can spend the night here, if Dick doesn’t mind.”

Tim smiled, something knowing and mischievous in his eyes that made Dick forget all that brotherly affection from a moment ago and replaced it with the urge to pinch Tim for his cheek. “Dick doesn’t mind,” he said, faux-innocent. “Okay, well. Goodnight.”

He brushed off Roy’s attempt to help him, and braced a hand on the wall to guide himself out of the room in hobbling steps instead. Dick sighed, shaking his head, fond and exasperated. “What was that about?” Roy asked, eyebrows arched, curious. “Sounded like Bat-code to me. Plus you seem really pleased.”

“…Tim… he hasn’t been very impressed with me ever since… well, you know.” Dick shrugged, pretending that it was a fact that didn’t hurt to remember. “And then there was this other situation – sociopath called Mother, long story – I had to make some tough calls and they, uh. Affected him the worst.” He faked a laugh. “You know how I get. Heartless strategist and all that.” Musing. “It’s a known Dick Grayson thing to do… so if he’s staying over, he’s probably ready to at least consider forgiving me.”

Roy averted his eyes. “You learnt from the best.”

“Don’t,” Dick warned. He couldn’t hear a rant against Bruce just then. Not with Tim a few rooms away. _He_ was the one who’d lied to his family and he alone deserved to face the consequences for it. Period.

“Sorry,” Roy quickly apologised, eyes wide and earnest. “I just mean… it isn’t easy, what you do. To choose what’s necessary, over how you feel about it. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. And _they_ shouldn’t be so hard on you.”

Dick stepped past him to close and lock the door. Sighed. “I know you try, Roy, and I love you for it, but you just don’t understand what my role in my family is supposed to be.”

“…Oh, I do. I just don’t like it.” Roy smiled, rueful. “Big brother can’t ever be the vulnerable one, right? You’re everybody’s rock. But, Dickie-bird… when you’re busy taking care of them, who’s taking care of _you_?”

Dick turned, stepped past him again, and climbed back into bed, pulling the sheets over his head. “That’s always been your problem, _mon trésor_ ,” he whispered, pitying. “…You make everything about me.”

* * *

**then**

“Go away!” Dick shouted through his quivering sobs, when he heard the first footfalls directly under his perch up on the rafters. It was probably Wally, he thought. Alfred would not have known to look in the attic for him; Wally, however, would have had the advantage of his powers to search every inch of the manor until he was found.

The footsteps stopped, but did not back away. “I said, go away!” Dick repeated, glaring down with all of his might despite the tears still streaming down his face.

He froze, breath hitching. It wasn’t Wally. It was Roy – staring up at him with a worried expression that Dick had never seen on his face before. Apparently taking advantage of Dick’s surprise, Roy climbed up a beam to where Dick was hunched up, head buried in his knees; had to bend a lot more than Dick did because he was taller. He sat, saying nothing.

“…How’d you find me?”

Roy shrugged. Stealing a sideways look, Dick thought he caught a hint of red dusting his cheeks. He dismissed it as a trick of the low light – why would _Roy Harper_ be blushing around him?

“Bird. High place. I just figured.” Roy made a vague gesture, cleared his throat. “…What was that about?”

“None of your business,” Dick snapped. He wiped at his eyes viciously, furious at himself for letting Roy see him like this. Like Roy didn’t think he was enough of a loser to begin with.

“You’re just going to make your eyes red, if you do that— and then they’re going to guess you were crying,” Roy pointed out, gently pulling Dick’s hand away from his face. He didn’t let go. “It helps to talk about it, you know. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart and everything.”

In spite of it all, Roy taking his hand woke a thousand butterflies in Dick’s stomach, and he felt his eyes well up again. “It’s my—” he choked, “Our elephant. At the— circus. Zitka. She’s sick, or something, she hasn’t been eating for weeks, no one knows what’s wrong, I can’t even go see how she is because Bruce isn’t here and everything’s still so complicated with the— the custody case, Gotham CPS hates me and I don’t want them to send me back, not there—”

Roy shushed him and held out a large handkerchief, which Dick used to wipe his eyes, nodding gratefully. “You have an elephant at the circus? That’s cool. I had horses.”

Dick sniffed. Glanced up. “Horses?”

“Yeah.” Roy’s voice grew soft, sad. Dick frowned.

“…How come you said _had_?”

Roy shook his head, turned away. “I don’t get to see them anymore.” He didn’t elaborate, and Dick both recognised and understood the defensiveness in Roy’s shoulders enough to know not to press.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Zitka… she’s family. When… when my parents… you know… they… they wouldn’t let me stay with the rest of the circus. Not a fit environment to raise a kid in, apparently. Bullshit. It was the only home I had ever known. They chucked me in juvie instead. Bruce happened, after.”

“Juvie?” Roy blinked, surprised. “Why juvie?”

Dick shrugged. “My social worker at the time… said that there were no spare beds in regular care left for me. I don’t know if she was telling the truth, she didn’t like Ro—she, uh, didn’t like me much.”

“What? That can’t have been legal.”

Dick smiled, humourless. “Who would have cared?”

Roy nodded, slow and quiet. His grip on Dick’s hand tightened marginally. “So Zitka being sick is like… one of the last members of your real family being sick, huh.”

“…Yeah.” Dick sniffed, nodding.

“Dick, I’m so sorry.”

And then Roy hugged him. Dick’s eyes flew open, wide, his heart hammering against his chest. He could feel his cheeks heating up, and he hastily pulled away. “Sorry!” For some reason, Roy’s face was red, too. “You don’t do hugs? Was it weird? It’s not weird, though, right? I mean, we’re friends, so—”

“No, I… do. I just.” Dick tucked a strand of his hair behind an ear. “You startled me.”

“…Sorry.” Roy gave him a sheepish smile.

Dick smiled back hesitantly. Roy’s grew even wider at that, more recognisable as his typical Devil-may-care grin and he lifted a finger, poked the upturned corner of Dick’s lips. “There it is.” He yanked the handkerchief out of Dick’s hands, playful. “So now we just have to get rid of these!”

“Stop it, Roy, stop!” Dick laughed in spite of himself, a grudging, breathless laugh as Roy effectively attacked his face with the cloth, wiping at the tear-tracks slowly drying on it. They grappled for it until Dick succeeded in tugging it away, still laughing silently. “Here,” he managed to breathe out through chuckles, holding the handkerchief out for Roy again. “Thanks, Speedy.”

Roy shook his head, smiling. “Keep it,” he said. “I hope Zitka gets better. Don’t cry anymore, okay? It’s not a good look on you. You, uh, got a nice smile.”

“…I hope so, too. And thank you.” Dick considered him. “I always thought you didn’t like me.”

Roy blinked. “What?”

“You just give off that impression,” Dick explained, a little embarrassed, but stubbornly continuing. “Like you’re too cool for everyone, you know?”

“…Cooler… than you? Who, _me_?” Roy stared at him, incredulous. “Dude, you’re _Robin_. You work with the McFreaking Batman. The fuck are you talking about?”

Dick laughed, covering up his surprised relief with something teasing. “Oh, so it was just jealousy, then.”

Roy shoved him. “You wish.” He shook his head, and reached for his handkerchief, folding it carefully and then handing it back to Dick, with exaggerated solemnity. “With this token, I mark my assurance that I, Roy William Harper Junior, also known as Speedy, also known as The Titan All the Girls Prefer, do not and have not ever _not_ liked you, Richard John Grayson Possibly-Wayne, also known as Dick, also henceforth known as Robin the Boy _Idiot_ because he has zero self-awareness.”

He gave Dick a mock-bow, holding the cloth up in both hands. Dick chuckled, taking it from him. “I accept.”

“Good.” Roy winked. “You ready to go back out there? Please say yes. Wally’s going to kill me for being the first to find you as it is, wouldn’t want to give him even more of a reason if he sees us alone together.”

“Wally? How come?”

Roy hopped back down, landing less gracefully than Dick would have, and laughed. “See?” he said. “Zero self-awareness.”

* * *

**now**

The second time Dick opened his eyes, it was to find empty, crumpled sheets shaped like Roy by his side. He frowned, squinting to check the time; discovered that he had slept in, alright. Rare. He really needed to get a day job soon.

“Tim?” he called as he slipped out of bed and wandered into the living room, pulling on Roy’s sweater as he went because why not. Following the sound of laughter and conversation, he stepped out into the little balcony outside the kitchenette. Tim was handing Roy his phone back when Dick cleared his throat. “Morning.”

“Noon.” Tim smiled. “You said you could drive me back?”

Dick nodded. “Let me eat. You can take a shower and change if you want, clothes are in the usual case, _don’t_ touch the green sweater that’s in your size, that’s for Damian, he’s growing— and stay off the foot as much as you can. I mean it, Timmy.”

“Yes, _Mom_.” Tim rolled his eyes as he hobbled past him. Roy chuckled, shaking his head. He eyed Dick for a minute, and then he noticed it:

“Is that my sweater?”

Dick grinned. “I was cold, it was warm.”

“It’s huge on you. …Damn, you look good.” Roy stared. “Not making this easy for me, Dickie-bird.”

Dick smiled, charmed, and turned, stepped back into the kitchenette. “Oh, you made breakfast. Wonderful. Thanks.”

“Would you promise to sleep in _every_ morning if I said I’d always make breakfast for you?” Roy returned, following after him. He reached for an apple from the basket on top of the fridge and took a huge bite.

“You’re not _that_ much of a better cook than I am.” Dick slid a piece of toast with thick melted cheese onto a plate. “Just marginally. What were you and Tim talking about?”

“Your dirty secrets.” Roy shrugged, his voice careful. “…So. Spyral, huh.”

Ah.

Dick took his time in answering, chewing his food slowly. “…Spyral,” he agreed, and didn’t elaborate further.

Roy nodded absently, bit into his apple again. “It’s not Checkmate, anyway.”

“Worse,” Dick answered, wry. “You weren’t supposed to be dead when you were doing the spy thing, were you.”

Roy gave him a sympathetic look. “It must’ve been lonely.”

“You spent a significant amount of time being tortured in a Quraci prison, Roy.” Dick chuckled, brushing it off. “Things are tough all over. Don’t waste your pity on me.”

Roy shook his head, laughing without humour under his breath. “You’re going to kill me, one day.” He sighed and chucked away his apple core. “Okay – go ahead. Your turn.”

“Why the Outlaws?” Dick asked immediately. “What happened to not wanting to blur the lines anymore?”

“Ah, but that was Outsiders-Roy,” Roy answered, faking a grin. “Outsiders-Roy had a Lian. …Lost her, and just didn’t give a flying fuck anymore.” He paused, smile softening into something sad and honest. “No – in all seriousness, though, I just needed to pay him back for busting me out, somehow.”

“Jay?”

A nod.

“I had no idea that he was that big on teams.”

Roy laughed. “He wasn’t. He needed it, though. Friendship… love…”

Dick scraped off the last of his breakfast. “Not a word you throw around easily,” he remarked, his tone careful.

“…No,” Roy agreed. Dick almost regretted bringing it up; he seemed sad. “Only to a grand total of… three people.” Dick, Donna, Jason. “…Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“I love you,” Dick said.

Silence.

Roy stared, mouth falling open. Dick averted his eyes and traced his finger aimlessly around the designs on the countertop he had been eating on. “I never said it, but… I did. I do. I’m not sure that you knew. And you should know, so.” His voice became a whisper. “Doubt anything but that.”

Roy reached out and took his hand. When Dick glanced up, he caught him smiling with his eyes, impossibly tender. “…I knew,” he assured him. “I never once doubted it.”

“Even when I was with other people?”

Roy huffed, exasperated, breaking the seriousness of the moment as Dick had to hide a smile, knowing that it meant either a political or a philosophical rant was coming. “First of all, love can’t be limited like that. I mean, I can respect monogamy and all, fine, but it’s just ridiculous to believe in _one_ true love. People fall in and out of love all the time. It happens. There’s no— scale, or, or hierarchy to it— loving new people shouldn’t negate the love you had for the ones gone by, no matter what the movies lead you to believe. And second, I don’t do the whole jealousy thing. I don’t understand it, I never understood it, and I don’t ever _want_ to understand it.”

“Are you done channelling your inner Ollie, or should I grab popcorn?” Dick laughed. “I know, Roy. You just… you come with such a promise of freedom that it seems a little too good to be true, sometimes. Be patient with me – I do try to understand, you know. Really. I’m just more… old-fashioned, that way.”

Roy shrugged. Grinned. “Nothing wrong with that, either. You do you and I’ll do me. And, hey, if you ever happen to decide you want to do _us_ … I’m no cheater, just to be clear.”

Dick nodded because he truly _did_ know that. It wouldn’t even be hard, he realised. It seemed incompatible in theory, but it wasn’t. They could – they _would_ compromise, he knew; Roy wouldn’t do anything more than appreciate any other soul he happened to want that wasn’t Dick and Dick would put away the wedding rings and future plans and picket-fence dreams and would never, never make Roy feel boxed in. Ever.

They _could_. It would work.

So what was he still afraid of? That Roy would leave? Still? After all that had happened between them in the past few weeks?

He sighed. “…Life makes no sense anymore.”

“I’d drink to that.” Roy laughed. “In a perfect world? Time would have stopped in 1989.”

Dick blinked. “Why ’89?”

“Oh, you know. Before rock and roll died and decided it wanted to take us all with it.”

“Speak for yourself. I refuse, on principle, to join the twenty-seven club. Way too cliché.”

Roy laughed. “So when would _you_ have chosen to stop time?”

Dick thought about it, smiling to himself. “Flip your numbers, I guess.”

“…’98?”

He nodded. “When we were fourteen and still convinced that we were all going to grow up and fill our mentor’s shoes and join the League and share a New York apartment.”

“I’m glad _that_ never happened.” Roy snorted. “Could you imagine the five of us under one roof 24/7? Excellent material for a tacky drama series. Wally and I would be fighting all the time over Donna or you or Donna _and_ you, and Donna would always be pissed off by the lack of other women in the house, and Garth would finally realise that he’s too good for all of us and swim off back to Atlantis. Happily ever after.”

“…Do you tell children that Santa Claus doesn’t exist? Just curious.”

Roy laughed. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rise of Arsenal puts Roy’s birth year as 1983, and since we follow the version in which the Titans are the same age, for this verse, it’s also theirs. ~~I know, I know, that sets this fic in like 2011, and all the pop culture references made in the present-day scenes are weirdly ahead of their time. Hush, let’s pretend I know what I’m doing~~.
> 
> Every kudos, bookmark, comment and subscription is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr (anelderling).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, at first Wally was all chill and supportive about the whole Roy replacing Dick as leader of the Titans thing in New Titans #101, but then in Flash Vol. 2 #81 he thinks of the others as “those jerks” for what he sees as a betrayal, so, like, what even is the truth. (The second version has more potential for drama, so we’re going to go with that one for this. Duh.)
> 
> The first flashback is my own take on the one in Titans Vol. 2 #23, because fuck that whole issue.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

He came so close to having second thoughts when Dick placed a sweet kiss on his cheek, before leaving. “I have a lunch date with Kara,” Dick explained with a little smile. “She said she needed to talk. So are you going to be here, or…?”

Roy shook his head, pretending that this was news to him. “I’d rather not stay in if you’re heading out, too. Don’t know. I’ll probably meet up with Connor or some shit.”

“Sounds fun, then. I’ll leave the key in the usual place.”

Roy didn’t dare breathe again until he heard the front door close behind Dick. Releasing a quivering sigh, he reached for his phone, firstly to thank Tim and then to spend a good fifteen seconds just staring at the other text he had drafted, edited, and re-edited the night before.

He closed his eyes, and hit send.

It was for the best, he convinced himself. Even Tim had said so. “It’s not going to be the last time. No matter how sorry he is. I know that,” the kid had acknowledged, sounding tired, resigned, and much older than his eighteen, nineteen years. “Bruce asks and Dick listens— that’s just the way it is. So I understand where you’re coming from.” He had been absently twisting a ring with the Superman logo on it that he wore, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the distant horizon. “More than anyone else, I understand. The Titans are a family away from family. And with _our_ family in particular, that’s… an important thing to have.”

“You’ll help me, then?”

Tim had nodded, sombre. “Yeah.”

Through Tim, he’d got to Bart, and through Bart…

His phone buzzed. Roy hastily pulled up the text. He read it through twice, sighed in relief, and finally answered that he would be there in a… well, in a flash.

* * *

**then**

“Donna! Donna, wait!” Roy chased after the sobbing girl as she stormed into their cave and headed straight for her bedroom. Wally and Garth, preoccupied with playing with water balloons just outside her door, stared at her, startled, as she rushed past them and slammed it closed behind her.

“What was that about?” Roy heard Wally say, and Garth answered, “Wasn’t she on a date with Speedy?”

Roy stopped before they could see him. He watched as Wally knocked on Donna’s bedroom door, calling, “Everything okay, Wonder Girl?”

“Leave me alone!” Donna’s muffled voice shouted in reply. Garth reached for Wally’s shoulder and whispered, “Maybe if you told her how you feel about her…”

Roy felt his stomach drop. In his mind’s eye, he could see that summer’s day when they had been out on a picnic together— Wally taking Dick’s hand, Dick laughing quietly— hell, no. Not again. He stepped forward. “Guys—”

Wally’s fist connected with his jaw before he could finish. “What the _hell_ did you do to Donna!” He shouted. Alarmed, Garth leapt forward and grabbed Wally by the arms, holding him back with difficulty.

“Come on, Wally, get off him—”

“You stay away from her!” Wally threatened, ignoring Garth and fighting to break loose. “Or next time, nobody is going to stop me from shoving those arrows up your ass, you son of a—”

“Wally, _no_ —”

“Just let him go, Gill-Head,” Roy bit off, glaring right back. “He thinks he knows everything, fine. You want to fucking fight, West? Let’s fucking fight!”

“Stop it, both of you! Donna needs—”

“You hurt her, you jerk! That’s all you know how to do – make everything worse! I should never have introduced you to _my_ friends!”

It stung, and hit far too close to home. Roy gave him an ugly smirk. “Oh, are we still talking about Donna?”

Wally went completely red. Shoving Garth off him, he leapt at Roy, who rolled out of the way and aimed a kick at Wally’s stomach. Wally was too fast though, Roy was pinned again in seconds. “ _Don’t you talk about him, you lying, cheating_ —”

“ _Stop it!_ ”

Something hit Roy in the face with all the force of a garden-hose at full blast. Spluttering, he turned his head and saw that one of the water balloons scattered all over the floor had burst open. Wally had received the same treatment too, apparently – he was now also laid out on the floor with Roy, coughing violently. As one, they exchanged a surprised look and turned to where Garth was panting, glaring down at them with uncharacteristic anger in his eyes.

“Donna. Needs. Help.” He gritted out. “So stop acting like a pair of absolute _children_ and _help_ , already!”

“…What’s going on?”

Roy felt his chest go cold. He whipped around and met Dick’s confused, wary expression under his mask. “Oh, thank Neptune,” Garth muttered, still glaring. “Robbie, Wonder Girl is in there and she’s crying.”

“Crying?” Dick tilted his head – exactly like an actual bird – and frowned. “Donna? What happened?”

“Ask _him_ ,” Wally spat out. He had pushed himself off the floor and was brushing water from his uniform. Roy glared.

“What did you do, Speedy?”

It was the way Dick said it that hurt the most – not accusing, not questioning, not even concerned. _Resigned_. A sigh, almost. Like he had expected nothing better from Roy.

Roy helped himself up, picking his hat off where it had fallen and pulling it back on to hide his eyes. “Sure, Kid Flasher says it, you believe him immediately.”

Dick’s frown deepened. “Spee—”

“Save it.” Roy brushed past him. “Go talk to Donna before I _make everything worse_.”

* * *

**now**

“—Oh my God, it really _is_ you!”

Roy threw him a crooked smile. Wally had very literally zoomed into the dilapidated little apartment, somewhere on the Bludhaven-Gotham Corridor that used to be a strategic Titans safe-house once upon a time – so long ago, in fact, that Roy had forgotten all about it. Wally had suggested they meet there, though, so here they were.

“In the flesh,” Roy drawled.

Wally, mouth still hanging open and an accusing finger still pointed at Roy, spluttered. “Holy— what the _fuck_ , Harper. It’s been— what, is it two years? Three?” He barked out a laugh, a startled, incredulous sound, and pulled Roy into a quick hug. “Why haven’t you been in contact until now, you ass?”

“…Did you conveniently forget the whole, lost my daughter, fell off the deep end thing?”

Wally rolled his eyes. “You were in mourning and you would come around. We were always waiting for you to be ready, and you know it. Stop being so stubborn.” His eyes softened. “…So, how are you?”

“Great. Good. Wonderful.” Roy laughed, sheepish. “How are _you_? How’s Linda? The kids?”

“Still alive, so that’s great.” Wally smiled. “Well, there was this whole mess where they all temporarily forgot that I existed, but that’s over now. Thank God.” He paused and glanced around the room. “Were you in Gotham? I did hear that you’re working with Red Hood now. Doing bad things for good, huh.”

“No, that’s… I’m not. Anymore.” Roy tugged at his ear. “I was in Bludhaven, actually.”

He could almost see the excited energy that had been buzzing around Wally since he’d entered disappear all of a sudden. Wally met his eyes, disbelieving, and Roy held the contact. He watched as the corners of Wally’s lips tugged downwards and Wally turned away.

“…How is he?”

“Doing… surprisingly well,” Roy answered, voice soft.

Wally started pacing the room, agitated, so Roy took that as his cue to slide down the wall he’d been leaning against and sit down heedless of the dust. “We were at his funeral,” Wally said. “He _died_ , Roy. He— and then, couple of months later, Nightwing’s in the fucking news. Like nothing even happened.” Wally’s anger was almost palpable. Roy had to physically restrain himself from flinching. “Whatever, right? It’s a Bat thing. Fine. But I figured— I really thought he’d— at least… call, or something. After. Explain. Apologise. I don’t know.”

“I think he wanted to,” Roy offered, half a whisper.

Wally gave him a bitter smile. “…The fact that I have to hear it from _you_ …”

“Are you going to punch me in the face, or are we too old for that?” Roy returned his smile, rueful. He took in a breath, steadying himself. “Wal. We made a promise.”

“Like I’d forget.” Wally kept his eyes on his fists. “Clearly, you’re keeping it, so.”

Something small and petty and still sixteen urged Roy to flaunt the fact that, yes, he was, _suck it, West_. He shoved it down, impatient. “No, Wal, I— that’s why I asked to meet you.” Wally met his eyes, reluctant. “I can’t do this alone. I never could.” He swallowed. “He needs you. All of you.”

He watched as realisation lit up Wally’s eyes and Wally breathed out a silent chuckle. “…Dick doesn’t know you’re here, does he.”

Roy flushed. Shook his head.

Wally nodded, slow and contemplative. “Are you two…?”

“No. …Yes. Maybe? I don’t know.” Roy sighed. “Look, are you going to help me, or not?”

“He’s going to be mad,” Wally warned, eyes almost pitying. “If… if you two _are_ … it could ruin things, Roy.”

“Aw. He _cares_.” Roy forced a laugh. “I know, Twinkle-Toes. But it’s for him. For his own good. Come on, what would _you_ do in my place, huh? You know this is the only way.”

Wally raised his eyebrows. “After the disaster that the whole Outsiders idea turned out to be, one would think you’d quit trying to do what _I’d_ do for him.”

Roy frowned. “That’s not fair. Don’t you remember how we ignored our guts about Terry and Donna? How that turned out? I’m not going to let that happen again, just because I was too afraid to rock the boat this time – not to our Robin, Wal.”

Wally shrugged, unapologetic. He met Roy’s eyes, something scrutinising in his own, and apparently satisfied with what he saw, he sighed. “Yeah – fine. I’ll help. Donna’s in New York again, she has a studio… Garth we can contact the old-fashioned way. Message in a bottle.”

Roy let out a breath that he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. “Sounds like a plan. …Thanks.”

Wally nodded, short and curt. And then he smiled. “Come on. Two years, you asshole. You owe me a drink. Let’s discuss this somewhere fun.”

* * *

**then**

Roy didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the familiar _whoosh_ that blew open his door followed instantly by a hand grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall. He welcomed the pain – almost wished Wally would have slammed harder. Donna, Garth – everyone else had been so frustratingly _understanding_.

“How. Could. You.” Wally gritted out, glaring daggers at him.

Roy couldn’t find the heart to put up a front, not even to goad him like he usually did. He met Wally’s eyes, pleading. “…Steel gave me no choice.”

“So _quit_ ,” Wally hissed. “We made a promise, Harper. You broke it. He’s a mess!”

“Wal, you _know_ I wouldn’t do this on purpose!” Roy protested. “I wouldn’t hurt him. I’d _die_ before I hurt him. You have to believe me!”

“You know what? I don’t think I do.” Wally glared. “I heard what you said to him at the wedding. Hell, it wasn’t exactly a secret. How do I know this isn’t about that?”

“…What the _fuck_?” Roy twisted out of Wally’s grip, glaring. “You really think I would sabotage him out of— _jealousy_? _Me_? I said what I said, because I meant it! Come on, Twinkle-Toes— tell me you didn’t think there was something funny about that wedding, too! We just lost Joey. Why would he propose so soon?”

“He loves Kory!”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t!” Roy snapped, losing patience. “Anyone can see that. But the way it was rushed— can you honestly say that it didn’t feel more like he was trying to force something good to happen to himself after all that he’s been through? Tell me I’m wrong, Wal.”

Roy could see Wally’s shoulders visibly trembling, and he fell quiet.

“…I swear this has nothing to do with that – Sarge ordered it. And— and besides, I think he’s… right. Dick’s in no state to be leading the Titans right now. Maybe… maybe a break would be _good_ for him. Kory will take care of him. He’ll… he’ll be just fine.”

He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Wally, or himself. Wally gave him a look of complete disgust that mirrored his own feelings.

“You’re disaster, Roy,” Wally spat. “Stay the hell away from Dick and Kory.”

He stormed out of the room. Roy jumped when the door slammed shut behind him. Sliding down the wall, he buried his face in his hands. “…Dick,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

* * *

**now**

“New Year’s Eve in Times Square? This is a little cliché, don’t you think?” Dick blinked.

“Oh, come on, Robbie.” Roy pretended to pout. “You know it’s my favourite holiday. I wanted you to spend it with me.”

“…Now I can’t complain without sounding like a total jackass.” Dick rolled his eyes, laughing under his breath. “The number of times I’ve had to ask somebody to take over patrol ever since you showed up, Harper, I swear. Bruce is going to start asking questions soon.”

The mental image of Batman looming over Roy while Roy tried to explain that he was very much in love with his beloved eldest son assaulted him, and he shivered. “Last time. I promise.”

Dick huffed. “You should have told me that this was what you had planned, though. We should have been here before noon at the very latest, they’re going to close off—”

“We’re going in from the north. And I already booked a spot, before you ask about parking. Jesus, give me some credit.”

“…Give the West Coast driver credit in New York?”

“Dinah taught me to drive,” Roy lied.

Dick snorted, disbelieving, and gave him a condescending shrug. “Just don’t say I told you so when we get stuck in traffic and miss The Flips.”

They didn’t get stuck in traffic, by some sheer miracle. Roy gave Dick a smug look as they stepped out of the garage, and Dick sighed. If he were still thirteen he would have probably stuck his tongue out.

It was around six, and the streets were already full of people. The crowds tended to start coming in as early as three in the afternoon, Roy remembered. Dick slipped his fingers through Roy’s, smiling up at him. “The Flips are coming on at eight, you said?” he confirmed. “We’ve got some time to kill.”

“…Yeah, um.” Roy checked his phone, which had just alerted him of a text – Wally. _We’re here. Where are you?_ “About that. I kind of… I took the liberty of, uh, planning something for you.”

Dick tilted his head. “Yeah?”

Shit. Roy’s heart was hammering against his chest. He closed his eyes, his voice sombre. “Dick.” He paused. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, since that night we went dancing. About what you said… about what you _didn’t_ say. And I realised— I— ah, fuck, this isn’t coming out right.” He laughed, humourless.

Dick frowned. “Roy… what’s going on?”

“I love you,” Roy whispered. “I love you so fucking much. Sometimes… sometimes it’s tempting, to believe that that’s enough. But it isn’t, is it…? Things got so bad the last time because I didn’t push. Because I let you shoulder the weight of all that darkness on your own. You wanted to, so I let you. …I let you.”

He lifted a hand and touched Dick’s face, his thumb brushing the corner of Dick’s mouth. “Things have been good, and you seem happy, lately— I’m glad, but I— I think I saw a little of that old darkness, when we went out that night. And I’m scared for you.”

Dick shook his head, partly confused, partly like he was trying to reject the very notion. Roy smiled, bittersweet.

“I’m not stupid enough to believe that I can be everything you need. Especially not when there are still walls you won’t let me see behind.” He laughed, soft. “…You’re not Bruce, Dick. You were never made to be alone.”

Dick frowned, lost, concerned. “…I don’t understand…”

“Dick?”

Right on time. Roy turned away when that voice made Dick’s whole body freeze up and his eyes grow wide, afraid of what Dick’s reaction would be. Slowly – incredulously – Dick looked behind himself to face its owner. Roy wasn’t certain that Dick managed to catch a glimpse of her at all before Donna launched herself into his arms.

It was strange, to watch a conversation carried out in silence, but they had, after all, known each other for so long that no interpretation was necessary. Even if all that he could see of Donna’s face was her hair buried in Dick’s shoulder, Roy understood what the tightening hands clutched at Dick’s back meant. _You’re here, you’re alive, thank the gods, you’re alive._

Three hasty little waves from Garth in Roy’s direction before Garth disappeared into the hug too. Wally hung back, every complicated emotion that he felt written in his eyes, and he gave Roy a nod, probably an acknowledgment to how awkward it was to be the only ones standing aside.

“…What the hell?” Dick said, dazed, when Donna and Garth pulled away, wide smiles on their faces.

“That’s my line,” Donna corrected him, breathless. “What happened to you? We heard— and then suddenly— merciful Hera. Roy,” she said it like an afterthought, and even after all these years her smile still took his breath away. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“Right back at you, angel.” Roy gave her a soft smile. “’Sup, Gill-Head. Long time.”

“Putting it lightly.” Garth shook his head, chuckling. He turned his attention back to Dick. “How are you? How’s— oh, wow. You have a lot to fill us in. Donna, we could go to your place? Wouldn’t that be best?”

“Of course.” Donna was holding on so tightly to Dick’s jacket that her knuckles were turning white, as if she was afraid that if she let go, he would disappear again.

Dick still looked wrong-footed, caught off guard, and Roy tried not to wince, as he watched him struggle to pull his mask on, to find his confident smile, something clever to say. It hurt. “I think we’re the ones who ought to look like we’re seeing a ghost, Dick,” Garth said with a kind smile, apparently having caught the same thing Roy had.

Dick smiled back hesitantly, although it still seemed shaky. “I… I don’t know what to…” His eyes found Wally’s, and Roy watched in sympathy as they widened, in response, and the contradicting feelings in them multiplied tenfold – anger, pain, helpless relief. Dick took a hesitant step forward. Wally’s hands balled into fists. He looked like he wanted to punch Dick _and_ hug him like Donna had.

He had taken too long to make his decision, though. Dick was now standing right in front of him, biting his own lip and looking away. Quick as lightning, Wally’s arms wrapped around him almost violently. “…If you ever – _ever_ do that to me again, Grayson…”

“Never by choice,” Dick whispered, closing his eyes. “You should have known that, Wal.”

“Fucking _Bruce_. When I see him again—”

“When _we_ see him again,” Donna corrected, something dangerous in her eyes. “Batman has a lot to answer to. But for now, let’s go – it’s Roy’s favourite holiday.” She gave Roy a teasing little smile, like she _knew_. “He should be celebrating it with his favourite people.”

* * *

**then**

Wally only gave Roy a resigned sigh when Roy stepped into his League quarters. “Can’t say I haven’t been expecting you to show up,” Wally said, sounding tired. “But I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to use your Ollie privileges to get in here.”

Roy leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as the automatic doors slid shut behind him. “Notice me _not_ throwing punches at you and demanding that you stay away from certain mutual friends like I have any say in what aforementioned friends choose to do.”

“What do you want, Roy?”

“Really?” Roy arched an eyebrow. “ _We made a promise, Harper,_ ” he mimicked Wally’s voice, turning it into an exaggerated falsetto.

“He had it coming,” Wally protested. But when he turned the chair he had been sitting on around, his cheeks were flushed with something guilty. “I mean… come on, nobody cares if the fucking Joker dies! And – of all people – _he_ has the right to want him dead! Yeah, to… kill him, even! I just don’t get why he’s being so… so…” He made a frustrated sound. “It’s because of Bruce. It’s _always_ because of Bruce. He’s hurting himself, Roy.”

Roy clicked his tongue. “So that warrants you hurting him _more_?”

“I…” Wally averted his eyes. “I was trying to help.”

“You brought up Jason, for fuck’s sake! You know we don’t talk about that.”

Wally frowned. “How is he?”

“Throwing himself into work, trying to drive himself into the ground,” Roy answered without missing a beat. “What did you expect? Go apologise, asshole. Fix. It. Before it’s too late.”

“Look, it’s not like I can take back what I said,” Wally reasoned. “And he’s not exactly making it easy! He has _become_ Bruce, Roy – doing his damnedest to push everyone away. I’m sick of it.”

Roy stared at him for a long, loaded minute. Pursing his lips, his hands tightened involuntarily. “If you want the rose without the thorns, West, you don’t deserve either.” Disgusted, he turned to leave the room. “I still won’t tell you to stay away. Unlike _some_ immature brats I know. …But know this – I haven’t been putting up a fight all these years because I genuinely believed that the _perfect_ Wally West would do better than I ever could.” He looked back, catching Wally’s eyes as the doors slid open. “I was wrong. This is me giving you a fair warning. I’m ready to fight.”

He turned and left, but he could have sworn that he’d just caught Wally smiling.

* * *

**now**

“—Tula’s back?” Roy whistled. “That has _got_ to make things awkward with Dolphin. Wow, dude. Your life’s, like, an actual soap opera right now.”

Garth glared up at him – not that it had any real effect, given that his head was on Roy’s lap. “Some of us have more important things to worry about than love triangles,” he answered, with a pointed look at the closed door behind which Dick and Wally had disappeared and not emerged from for the past half an hour or so.

Donna laughed into Roy’s shoulder. “Burned, by somebody who lives _underwater_.” She took another swig from the bottle in her hand. Strong stuff, Roy mused, if the Atlantean and the Amazon were apparently just as drunk as Roy with his ordinary human metabolism was. “Sad.”

Roy grinned. “Little Aqualad, all grown up—” he laughed when Garth took a sharp swing at his arm.

“Happy New Year!” Donna dragged out the last syllable like she was singing it, raising her bottle at the television screen. Roy and Garth had apparently just missed the ball drop.

“…Shit.” Roy frowned in the direction where Dick had disappeared, the alcohol in his system stupidly intensifying his emotions and making his heart clench. “Missed my midnight kiss…”

So of course Donna and Garth had to give him one peck on the cheek each. He laughed.

At last, the door opened. Roy watched as Wally gave Dick a quick sideways hug, their cheeks pressing against each other. Dick’s eyes were a little reddish and Wally was still sniffing. Roy made a mental note: file that under _noted, but never to be brought up again, except maybe for emergency blackmailing purposes_.

Grinning, Wally squeezed himself in between Roy and Garth, who had sat up by then. But Roy kept his eyes on Dick, who took a seat on the armchair next to the couch instead of joining them. Roy felt the sharp sense of panic almost overwhelm him. He forced himself to listen to Wally’s eager conversation instead.

“I missed this.” Wally grinned.

“…Oh, no,” Garth said, sighing deeply.

Wally blinked. “What?”

Roy met Garth’s amused look, both of them trying and failing to hide their smiles. “This is how it always starts,” Garth pointed out. Roy nodded.

“ _I missed this, I missed you guys, we should hang out more_ —”

“— _We never make time outside of work_ —”

“— _Maybe we should just get the Titans back together again,_ ” Roy finished.

Wally scowled. “I think I like it better when you’re being a bully and Garth is using all of his considerable restraint not to kill you.”

He turned to Donna, clearly looking for some support, but Donna had her eyes on Dick, a concerned frown on her face. She set her bottle aside and got off the couch, kneeling in front of Dick, who glanced up at her in surprise. “…Are you regretting this, darling?” Donna asked, taking his hands.

Dick closed his eyes. Smiled. He opened them again, directing a steady look right at Roy, who stared back, shocked. “No,” Dick whispered. “I just. I missed this, too. I missed you. All of you.”

The effect that his confession had on everyone was instantaneous. Roy watched in wonder as tears welled up in Wally’s eyes, a brilliant smile lit up Donna’s, and a small, nostalgic one pulled up one corner of Garth’s mouth. _Are you absolutely sure you’re not a meta,_ Roy wanted to blurt out, like he had many, many times before. Dick’s eyes still hadn’t left him.

“Roy, could I talk to you, please?” he asked, voice calm. “In private.”

Roy’s mouth went dry, and he jumped when Wally suddenly squeezed his hand – _oh, shit_ , Wal probably meant, or, _good luck_ , or, _sucks to be you_. Roy wasn’t sober enough to tell. He stood up. “…Yeah. Sure.”

They made their way out onto the balcony in the room adjacent. The city skyline was lit up by firework display after firework display, all celebrating the new year, the new beginning. _Well,_ Roy thought, chest tight, _It’s a good time to end things. Start over._

“You’ve been avoiding me since we got here,” Dick pointed out, and Roy wondered why he sounded so gentle. Softening the blow, probably. “And drinking. A lot. Even by your usual New Year’s Eve standards.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been as brave as you, Dickie-bird.”

Dick tilted his head, confused. “I don’t see the connection.”

Roy shrugged. “Takes a lot of guts to go through life completely sober the way you do.”

“…Ah.” Dick breathed out a silent laugh. “Is that it? You’re scared?”

“Terrified.” Roy made a sound halfway between a startled chuckle and a whimper. “You’re probably mad at me. Except you would never _say_ you’re mad at me, because you never feel like you have the right to be mad at anybody – except maybe Bruce, but that doesn’t count because parents are always acceptable targets, I would know – so of course you’re just going to keep it in, until you explode. Like that one time you reduced Donna to tears. Or worse, until you _implode_ , and then I’d never forgive myself.”

Dick met his eyes, unflinching. “Sounds like you’ve already decided how I feel for me.”

“I understand, if you’re mad. You _should_ be mad.” Roy sighed, turned to look out at the fireworks, the stars, anything but the unreadable sapphire of Dick’s eyes. “Please, Dick.” A whisper. “If you’re going to ask me to move out… do it now. Do it before I sober up.”

Dick shook his head. “And now you’re deciding what I’m going to do for me.”

Roy closed his eyes. “Just— just don’t cut me off completely. It can be like you and Barbara. Right? She still works with you – with Nightwing – as Oracle, even if you aren’t talking right now.”

“ _Roy._ ” He shut up, a reflexive reaction to the command in Dick’s voice. “It looks to me like you have been making a lot of my decisions for me. Not least of all, the decision to _meet up with the people that I have been actively avoiding_.” Roy winced.

“You need them,” he whispered. Then he braced himself for whatever Dick was about to hit him with, praying that his heart was as ready to be martyred as his resolve had been all week.

“Us.”

Roy frowned. Glanced up. “What?”

Dick smiled softly and took his hand. “ _Us_. You said _them_. Should be _us_.”

A pause, the length of a forgotten heartbeat, as the implication sank in and Roy stared, incredulous. “You’re— you’re not angry?”

“Oh, I’m angry.” Dick huffed. “…But as someone who makes a living out of making other people’s decisions for them… not to mention dealing with a lot of anger from them as a consequence… it would be kind of hypocritical to dissolve our, um, _partnership_ over it, don’t you think?”

Roy shook his head hastily. “Nope. No. I don’t think.”

“ _Stop it,_ ” Dick hissed. His grip on Roy’s hand grew tighter, crushing, almost, and he pulled it to his chest. “Stop… being so goddamn willing to set yourself on fire, just to keep me warm. I don’t know what to _do_ with it, Roy. I don’t know what to do with what you offer me.”

“…Now you’re angry,” Roy noted.

Dick laughed, humourless and self-deprecating. “I always believe that intent matters. You meant well. It turned out well. It’s alright.”

Roy brought his free hand, his prosthetic, to Dick’s waist, pulling him closer, not quite daring to believe it. “Roy.” Dick sounded insistent. “I mean it. I couldn’t, my treasure. I couldn’t ask you to leave. Never on purpose.”

It sounded dangerously close to everything Roy had been prepared to shove aside his dignity and say, down on his knees, if he had to, to get Dick to forgive him: _Let me be close to you; don’t ever push me away, I’m lost without you._

“…Okay.” Roy shushed him. “Okay.”

“Tomorrow. When you sober up. We’re going to talk about this,” Dick whispered, sounding firm, like he was laying out a plan for a mission and not salvaging a friendship. “And then we’re going to survive it. Because we’ve weathered worse and I’ll be damned if something that you tried to do for _my_ sake ends up being the deal-breaker. Alright?”

Roy laughed, partly incredulous and partly amused. “You’re the boss.”

They stayed outside, for a while longer, watching the last of the fireworks die out. Dick kissed each knuckle on Roy’s hand, and then they went back in, sharing a smile at the sound of drunken voices singing, _for auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne! We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Could Garth even make whirlpools before he got his Tempest powers?~~
> 
> Roy and Wally and their love/hate dynamic are so fun to write. Do I ship it? Hmm.
> 
> Please take a moment to leave kudos, bookmark, comment, or subscribe! I’m on Tumblr as anelderling.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A giant thank-you once again, for all of the support that you have shown this story, you guys. You’re the best. I noticed that the number of kudos per chapter has been increasing since chapter seven, and I figure that probably means you guys have been sharing this with your friends – so if that’s what’s up, I really appreciate it!
> 
> This is a transitional chapter to set up the second half of the story. No flashbacks this time.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

“Mr. Spikes coming at you. Two o’ clock, Arsenal.”

Roy nocked his arrow, pulled, and— released. The man with the spiked hair and camo yelled in pain, clutched his shoulder, and fell. “Done and done, Canary.” Roy ducked behind the overturned wreckage of a car he’d been positioned behind again. He heard the familiar whistling in his ear and ducked; Emi’s arrow sailed over his head and brought another guy down. She crouched down with him and they exchanged adrenaline-fuelled grins. “Who’s next?” Emi asked into her comm.

“Ollie’s got this. Stay down.”

Roy shook his head, amused by the scowl that tugged Emi’s lips down at Dinah’s order. “Nobody tells Red Arrow what to do, remember?” Emi insisted.

“Uh, hate to break it to you, kid, but a _lot_ of people told Red Arrow what to do.” Roy chuckled. He peered over the upturned wheels of the car, and let another arrow loose, hitting a man in the back of his knees. “Else you could have taken the name a lot sooner, ’cause I would have been dead. Look sharp. On your right.”

Emi turned, pulled, released. The guy coming at her caught the arrow right in his forearm and staggered backwards, screaming bloody murder.

“—Speedy, you good?” Connor’s voice in the comms, frantic.

“…Um… could use an assist!”

“Coming, Mi.” Roy tucked and rolled, away from that car to the next closest one, looking over it to find Mia in the chaotic battlefield that the street had become. She was being cornered against a building by three of the attackers at once, and – _shit_. Roy saw the problem: empty quiver, bow snapped in half.

He climbed onto the dented hood of the car, nocked three arrows at once, and took aim. A gamble, sure. Impossible, maybe. Ollie bet on luck when he took risks as unconventional as this. Roy simply closed his eyes, and let the wind whisper.

There was a reason why he never visited Lian’s grave, aside from the cultural taboo he’d been raised with when it came to anything related to death. It was because she wasn’t _there_. She was in the grass, the trees, the water, the wind. With him and without him. Once upon a time, it had been impossible to continue believing. Grief had disillusioned him.

But he had seen home and happiness again. Things were different – things were better.

_Let’s get your Aunt Mia out of that little situation, okay, princess?_

He breathed in. And let go.

Mia stared at him in disbelief, mouth hanging open, when all three arrows found their targets without a hitch. “…No _way_ you made that shot! Wait, _how_ did you make that shot?”

“With a little help from up above?” Roy shrugged, grinning. He joined her to fend off more attackers, now that their numbers were better matched.

“Was showing off worth losing your last arrows, though? You got no more weapons!”

“Don’t you know why they call me Arsenal? The human switchblade?”

“Because you’re a tool?” Mia grinned, knocking an attacker down with a high kick that Dinah would have been proud of. Roy huffed, unimpressed.

“Because I’m _never_ without a weapon, Speedy!” He threw Mia’s broken bow like a boomerang— and watched it catch a guy right on the chin, disarming him long enough for Mia to leap forward and punch.

“Think that’s the last of them,” Mia said with a satisfied sigh as she shook out her hand. “Thanks, Roy.”

“Dinah, we good?” Roy asked into his comm just to be absolutely sure.

“Affirmative. Stay put, kiddos. GA and I are almost there.”

“Cute GA or annoying GA?” Mia grinned. Connor, who had caught up to them with Emi in tow by then, threw an arm around her shoulders and smiled.

“Just for that, lunch is on me.”

Dinah’s motorcycle roared up to them a while later, right in the middle of a four-way rock-paper-scissors game, to decide who had to go hunt the entire street for reusable arrows. “Okay, feed me theories,” Ollie said, climbing off the pillion seat. “Those guys weren’t tattooed, branded, or even wearing the same thing, so I’m guessing they aren’t part of any League, Court, or – thank God – _Circle_ that we may or may not have recently pissed off. So who are they?”

“And what the hell did they want,” Dinah agreed, a finger under her chin, and her lips pursed, contemplative. “Detonating a bomb in the middle of a relatively empty residential street, their only casualties a couple of parked cars and unfortunate garden landscaping… and was it just me, or were they not that hard to take out?”

“Also, what are the odds that someone would mount a half-assed attack like that in Ollie’s neighbourhood, specifically?” Emi pointed out, frowning in thought.

“Hey. Team Idiot.” Roy turned, blinking in confusion at the new motorcycle that joined them. He didn’t recognise the rider: a tall black man who had the kind of build that suggested professional training. “It was a _distraction_. Someone wanted Green Arrow and company preoccupied with a lot of small fry so the real action could go down without trouble.”

“Digg.” Ollie sounded pleasantly surprised. He clapped a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “I don’t believe you’ve met – Roy, John Diggle, a new… associate of ours.”

John Diggle held out a hand. “You’re Roy Harper, huh. Ollie talks about you a lot. Mostly to tell us not to talk about you a lot.”

Which sent Ollie into a coughing fit, so Roy took the hand offered to him and nodded. “Pleasure.”

“Diggle, what do you mean? You know something we don’t?” Dinah asked, a hand on her hip.

Diggle snorted. “No, I _fixed_ it. Caught some guy trying to steal that necklace that the Laweian delegation sent Domini as a gift. Coral and gold, not worth as much as most of that family’s other pointless trinkets, but—”

“—But losing it would have been a potential international crisis,” Ollie finished for him, frowning. “The Laweians would consider it an insult.”

“Any idea who the guy was?” Connor asked. Diggle shook his head no.

“Hired man. That’s all I could tell. We could get Henry to find a paper trail, figure out who’s behind the whole thing. Looks like the disaster has been averted for now, anyway.”

“Aw, no fun.” Emi slapped his arm good-naturedly. “Little John did all the work—”

“—So Robin Hood could spend a Sunday with his family?” Ollie arched an eyebrow at Roy, giving him half a smile. “If they don’t have places to be.”

Roy thought about it. Shrugged. “Yeah, why not. What’s one more day in Star if I’ve been here awhile already.”

“Connor, you said lunch,” Mia reminded him. Connor nodded, and the pair of them strolled away, Emi following behind, her interest having been caught by the promise of food. Dinah and Diggle started to discuss the specifics of the attempted robbery, and Ollie steered Roy back towards the house, which had thankfully only had to lose a bush to the explosion – it had been in need of some serious trimming, anyway.

“What’s up?” Roy asked as he followed Ollie into the garage. He had been expecting Ollie to step inside the _house_ , so this was curious.

“Got something for you.” Ollie started to rummage around the shelves of tools and the like. “Consider it two years’ worth of missed birthday presents from your old man, huh?”

“…I’m not a kid anymore,” Roy protested half-heartedly, although he couldn’t help craning his neck to see. Ollie laughed.

“So. You still plan on crashing at Bat-boy’s place, huh.”

“Dick? Until he gets sick of me, yeah,” Roy answered, keeping his tone light. “Why?”

“Well, I mean. Isn’t it weird? Given your, uh… history?” Ollie asked. Roy was starting to suspect he had already found what he was looking for, he was just pretending to be busy so he wouldn’t have to tell whatever it was to Roy’s face. He rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“No. Complicated, I guess. But not weird.”

“…You aren’t seeing each other again, are you?” Ollie was trying hard to sound casual. Roy tried not to sigh.

“When are you and Dinah getting back together?” he retorted.

Ollie turned back around, a dusty box in his hands. “Touché,” he said, chuckling begrudgingly. “Here. This is, uh. This is all the stuff that we managed to salvage from your old place. You… did a pretty thorough job, so it’s all that we could find, but. I thought you might want it.”

Roy stared. He took the box from Ollie, almost reflexively, his mouth dry. “Stuff from…” the last place where he had been happy, before – before. “Why… would you even go back to look?” he asked, his voice going uncomfortably hoarse.

Ollie shrugged, smiling a little too casually, which was how Roy knew he was pushing away larger emotions that he didn’t want to feel, to remember. “Guess I was always holding out hope. That you’d come back.”

Roy arched an eyebrow. “Your goatee twitches when you lie.”

Ollie’s shoulders slumped, defeated. He sighed. “…I didn’t even dare to _imagine_ that you’d come back,” he admitted.

So he’d gone back to look, in order to punish himself. Roy smiled, soft. “Happy to take this off your hands now, then.” He forced his smile into its usual grin, desperate to break the seriousness of the moment. “Although I don’t know if a box full of half-burned things is really worth two years of birthday gifts, Ollie.”

Ollie’s smile mirrored his – had to have picked up the habit from somewhere, Roy supposed – and he shook his head with a conspiratorial wink. “That wasn’t the gift. This is. Catch.”

Roy cupped his hands instinctively. He stared down at the keys that Ollie had thrown, confused for a moment, before realisation dawned and his mouth fell open. “…Are you serious!?”

“Kid, I _never_ joke about her.” Ollie grinned. “Couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been driving around in somebody _else’s_ crappy truck since you returned, so… yeah. She’s all yours. Besides – I know your old Uncle Hal would like that, too.”

Roy stared incredulously at Rosebud, parked where she was in the centre of the garage, not quite believing it. He felt about twelve again, wanted to say, _You’re the best!_ Racing for the driver’s seat, climbing in and ramming the key into the ignition, he laughed and said, “Better tell me what the catch is _before_ I take her out, old man.”

“Lunch at home. Every Sunday.” Ollie grinned, climbing into the passenger seat. “No exceptions.”

Roy cringed. “Uh, would your chilli be on the menu?”

“Why are you even asking?”

“…Every _other_ Sunday,” Roy negotiated.

Ollie threw his head back and laughed, hearty and real.

He set out for Bludhaven with Rosebud the very next morning. It was a forty-two hour drive, and Roy loved every minute of it. “In a perfect world, that would have been my life,” he told Dick, with a pleasant smile – still feeling the calm from the wind against his face and a road stretched out ahead of him. “Always on the road, with no destination in particular. I’d only stop for food and stuff, wherever… make my money busking or something.” He nudged Dick. “You could join me. You play guitar.”

“Very _bohème_ ,” Dick remarked, laughing under his breath. He didn’t look up from where he was busy passing Tarot cards through the smoke rising up from a bundle of burning sage in front of him – Roy had unconsciously reached for one that Dick had finished giving this treatment to, at some point, and had gotten his hand slapped away for his trouble. “But a life as carefree as that is more your thing than mine, I think. I would go insane if I didn’t have something to do.”

“…What _are_ you doing, anyway?”

“Oh, this?” Dick said absently. “I found my mother’s cards when I was packing up. You have to cleanse them.” He glanced up and smiled. “Want a reading?”

Roy shook his head no. “The future’s fun _because_ it’s unpredictable, if you ask me.”

Dick chuckled. “How is it that we can be so different and still get along?”

“Opposites attract?” Roy shrugged, smiling.

Dick hummed. He set the card down on the growing deck on the table, reaching for another from an opened tin lying on the other side of the sage. Through the thin smoke, Roy watched Dick’s eyelashes almost kiss his cheekbones when he lowered his eyes to see the flame, cleansing the new card; watched long, nimble fingers twirl it around between them deftly. “…Roy Harper, you are staring.” Dick arched an eyebrow, smiling.

Roy tugged at his ear and coughed, self-conscious. “Love the new place, by the way.” Fitness centre in the front, living space in the back. Nightwing space in the back of the back. Dick seemed happy to have a day job again – Roy couldn’t imagine why. The business-slash-residence was larger than the apartment; fit for two.

“Speaking of which, move that box you brought back to your own room, would you?” Dick said, nodding at it. “It’s dusty and I haven’t hired cleaning people yet.”

“…You know Ollie apparently went back to the old house after it, uh, burned down? That’s the stuff he salvaged,” Roy told him, voice nonchalant.

Dick met his eyes. “Really?”

“Really. I… didn’t know how to feel about it.” Roy ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and got up from the kitchen table to get the box, which he had placed on a countertop close by. “…Haven’t opened it…”

Roy sensed more than saw Dick abandon his task, and walk up to join him, leaning against the counter while Roy opened the box, careful. The first thing they could see was Lian’s old Legos. He smiled, sad and nostalgic.

Dick reached into the box and pulled out the Lego Robin. “Is this me?” he asked, turning it one way and another. “Mm. Pixie boots and the leotard. It’s me.”

“Could be Jay.”

“His hair was different.” Dick poked the little toy. “Was I ever this adorable? Look at me. Did I get experimental surgery to make my eyes larger and more vulnerable-looking or something?”

“You were, though. …Actually, you kind of still _are_.” Roy laughed. “It’s what makes you so terrifying.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Funny.” He chucked the Robin back into the box and reached for the Lego Speedy next. “Oh, that’s cute. Your arrow is so tiny.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Roy pushed the Lego pieces aside, and discovered hard paper – blackened and curled around the edges. A photograph… _the_ photograph. “Great. My copy’s ruined, apparently.”

Dick glanced over and laughed. “There’s a burn around Wally’s crotch area…”

“Nice.” Roy snapped a picture with his phone to send later, grinning. “Not like he needed that, anyway.”

“You’re an actual _child_ , Roy.” Dick shook his head, fond. “…I, uh. Put my copy back up, by the way. Bedroom. So it doesn’t matter if yours is ruined.”

Roy smiled, pleased to hear it. Rummaging further through the odds and ends in the box, his fingers found a photo frame made of metal and not plastic, which meant it hadn’t been as ravaged by the fire as everything else. He picked it up, his throat swelling. Lian smiled up at him, five years young, healthy, alive, and with no apparent care in the world. He barely even registered the sharp pain in his thumb when he brushed it over her captured face – probably a cut from the broken glass.

“Hey.” He glanced up when Dick’s hand touched his forearm, careful. Dick gave him a gentle smile. “Here,” Dick said, reaching into his jacket pocket for something and then forcing it into Roy’s fingers: a key, and Roy wondered, ironically, exactly how many keys he was supposed to expect as gifts that day. “The spare. You should have it.”

He must have taken too long to respond, because Dick laughed, soft and knowing. “It’s a key, Roy, not an engagement ring.”

Roy flushed, guilty. “I wasn’t—” He cut himself off, sheepish, when Dick arched an eyebrow and gave him a _look_ that said plainly that Roy wasn’t fooling him at all.

“It just means that you can come _and_ go easier,” Dick said, voice patient. “Emphasis on the go. Don’t be scared. I want you here, but more than that, I want _you_ to want to be here. Okay? It’s all still in your hands. Consider this a symbol. Alright?”

Roy nodded, a partly embarrassed, partly apologetic little smile on his face. “It’s not you, Dick, it’s…”

“I know. You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s okay.” Dick returned his smile, kind. He gave Roy’s hand a squeeze, and then he went back to the table and his cards. “Now get that box off _an actual eating space_ and somewhere sanitary, Roy, please.”

Roy laughed, shaking his head. So easy for them to brush things away and ape levity. Maybe that was how they could get along, Roy wanted to tell Dick – maybe the differences between them only existed on the surface; maybe, down to their fundamentals, they were really just like each other.

He watched Dick glance at his phone, which was vibrating with an incoming call; watched him pick it up with a smile. “Hi, Donna.” Roy felt an echo of that rare unguarded smile in his own heart, and he realised, half-amazed, that in that moment, he was happy. It was almost… surreal – Dick laughing at whatever Donna was saying, and Roy standing there actually _allowed_ to look, and to appreciate. The things in that box and the tragedy that they told only meant that it had passed. He was okay. Dick was okay. In spite of it all, they were okay.

 _You’re staring again,_ Dick mouthed at him while Donna talked.

Roy shrugged, smiling in answer. “ _Ayóo ánííníshóní yee’. Niiłtsą́ nít’ éé’ shináá’ ásdįįd._ ”

He picked up his box and made for the guest room, not stopping to translate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roy said: “You’re beautiful. One look at you blinds me.”
> 
> Me: I wish the Green Arrow comics portrayed archery more accurately. Also me: _Roy nocked three arrows at once_ —
> 
> What? Don’t judge me. Also, I’m not sorry for that Lego Batman reference. Lego Batman is the ultimate cinematic masterpiece.
> 
> Leave kudos, bookmark, comment or subscribe! Might as well, if you made it this far, right? My Tumblr is anelderling.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you came away from the last chapter thinking that things were starting to seem a little too good to be true, well…
> 
> The second flashback includes _that_ scene from New Titans #55. Fuck you and your emotional constipation, Bruce. Get some help.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

Dick supposed he should have seen it coming.

The afternoon had been peaceful. Too peaceful. He should have recognised the warning when Roy had returned from moving his things to his room with a slight frown on his face. Finished with his mother’s deck and that pleasant chat with Donna, Dick had turned to him and asked, “Something wrong?”

Roy had detached his prosthetic with a partly confused, partly annoyed look on his face. “This thing, I think,” he had answered.

And then again, fifteen minutes into their shared mug of coffee. Roy had let out an involuntary hiss, clutching at what was left of his arm and startling Dick. “Roy?” Dick had ventured, alarmed. Roy had given him an obviously forced smile and said, “Having a colony of nanites constantly eating away at your nerves tends to hurt a little, Dick.” Light, sarcastic. “It’s nothing. Happens all the time.”

“But I thought the pain was mostly chronic these days?” Dick had asked, concerned.

Roy had muttered, “Me too…”

By the time the sun had started setting, they’d had to relocate to the couch in the living room, so that Roy could lie across Dick’s lap, while Dick tried a pain-relieving acupressure technique that he had learnt from Alfred on Roy’s good arm – locating and then massaging pressure points from elbow to wrist while making trivial conversation in an effort to keep him distracted.

“Worst trait in a lover.”

“Clinginess,” Roy had answered, and Dick had wished that he couldn’t hear the conscious effort Roy was making to hide the pain from his voice.

“Yeah, same here, I think. I feel selfish for saying it, but… too many of my past relationships have been ruined by my putting work first and them feeling neglected as a result.”

Roy had braved a shaky smile. “You talk a lot, when you’re worried.” He’d sucked in a sharp breath and flinched when Dick pressed down on another pressure point. “Um… worst… worst, ouch, feeling in the whole world.”

“Helplessness,” Dick had answered around the lump in his throat with a pained, wry smile.

Evening had seen a turn for the worse, Roy barely able to keep up his end of the conversation any longer. Dick had knelt by the side of the bed where Roy lay sweating and trembling from the pain, desperate and all out of options. “I have Oxycodone, it might—”

“ _No!_ ” Roy had cried, eyes flying open, panic obvious in them. “No— fuck— no pain meds.”

Dick had taken his hand, holding it tight. “But Roy…”

“Damn it, Dick, I said _no_.” Roy had buried his face in his pillow, teeth clenching. “They don’t fucking work, understand? I’m just going to want stronger. I won’t… I _can’t_ … risk wanting stronger.”

Which was why night had fallen now, and Dick was practically on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, watching Roy squirm and involuntary tears leave wet trails down his cheeks, unable to do anything to help. “Raven, I can get Raven, I’ll ask Damian—”

“ _Don’t_. Don’t let anyone see me like this,” Roy pleaded, the pain apparently too strong to even allow frustration in his voice anymore. “Just… can you please just _go_ , Dick, I want to be alone…”

“…I…” Dick felt the bizarre urge to apologise, something self-destructive inside him convinced that this, too, had to have been his fault, somehow. Unable to bear seeing Roy hurt any longer, he listened – stood up and left the room. He bit his lip, closing his eyes and leaning against the door that he had just shut. He knew what to do, of course – his detective’s mind had been working non-stop, had already come to the conclusion that if Roy wasn’t comfortable with _Dick_ seeing him this vulnerable, then there was only one other person he wouldn’t mind getting help from.

One other person who, by sheer probability, had to have dealt with this before.

Something ugly in him recoiled at the idea of having to ask _him_ for help – and Dick had never hated himself more, than in that moment. Was he really so heartless, he wondered, that he would let _jealousy_ , of all things, get in the way of what Roy – _Roy_ , who had given him so much, so unconditionally – needed?

With resolve, he returned to the kitchen and picked his phone up from where he had left it. He typed in the number that he’d memorised, just in case, and waited while it rang. A click, and then a mildly irritated voice with an undiluted Gothamite accent answered: “Kind of busy, Dick. I thought I said not to call here unless it was an emergency.”

Dick breathed in, steadied himself. “It _is_ an emergency.”

“Look, I know I agreed to work with you guys on occasion, but if Bruce thinks that I’d put the Family over my own missions, tell him he’s got another—”

“It’s not a Family thing, Jason.” Dick swallowed. “It’s Roy.”

A pregnant pause. “…Roy… Harper? My Roy?”

 _No, my Roy,_ Dick thought and didn’t say, ashamed by the sudden flare of anger that rose up in him. “Listen – did you ever have to deal with his… I’m not sure, phantom pains, I think, and he’s really suffering, and…” _I don’t know what to do. Please._

Dick could practically hear the discomfort in the silence that followed. “…Roy’s _there_? With you?”

“Can you help or not?” Dick pressed, impatient.

On the other end, Jason sighed. “I don’t know what you heard about us, Dick, but we aren’t exactly friend—”

“For _once_ in your _life_ , Jay, would you _please_ think about someone other than yourself!” Dick snapped. “I don’t give a _fuck_ about how you may, or may not feel about your ex— I am _telling_ you that someone you cared about is in pain and I have no idea how to help and I know _you_ do!”

Silence.

Jason cleared his throat. “Give him the phone.”

Dick didn’t hesitate. He rushed back to Roy’s room, ignoring the glare that Roy tried to send him, a mix of humiliation, and pain. “Here,” he whispered, breathless, slipping the phone underneath Roy’s ear, and returning to the door immediately after. He could only catch the shocked look in Roy’s wide eyes when Jason said his name before he pulled it shut once more.

* * *

**then**

The school girls passing by the motorcycle he was half-leaning against, half-sitting on, actually stopped, just to stare and giggle and blush. Amused, Dick tried not to look like he had noticed. He craned his neck to see over the crowd of teenagers exiting the building, smiling to himself when he spotted the face he had been looking for: Jason was staring resolutely at his shoes, hands tight around the straps of his bag, while a couple of boys walking out at the same time said things to him – nothing pleasant, from the looks of it; laughter and sneering.

Dick pushed off the motorcycle and stepped forward, just as the group reached the gates.

He raised a hand, casual, in Jason’s direction; flattered when Jason gave him a look that went from startled to incredulous to ridiculously eager within a few seconds. “Problems, gentlemen?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at the boys who had been following Jason. Bruce’s lessons on intimidation had apparently paid off, because they stopped and slunk away, muttering to themselves.

“I could have handled _them_ ,” Jason said, amused but clearly relieved. “It’s just that I’m not supposed to. What are you doing here?”

“Kidnapping you,” Dick answered, slinging an arm around Jason’s shoulders. “Come on. Before Alfred gets here.”

“Oh, he’s going to be furious…” But Jason still all but ran for the motorcycle, expectation and glee in his eyes as he leapt onto the pillion seat before Dick had even climbed on himself.

They bought hotdogs and finished them together in Robinson Park. Dick asked the usual questions, how school was, how training was, everything except how Bruce was. “Is it true you’re dating Starfire?” Jason asked, half his attention on the pigeons that he was feeding breadcrumbs to.

“Don’t get nosy, now.” Dick nudged his head playfully. Jason laughed, pushing back half-heartedly and standing off his haunches now that the bread was gone.

“The papers say you’re dating Starfire. She’s really hot.” He paused, his cheeks turning a little red. “Hey, Dick?”

“Hmm?”

“…You think _I_ could join the Titans one day? Like, permanently?”

Dick felt his stomach drop. Jason. In the Titans. The kid had already taken his name, his fath—his mentor. Now he wanted his _friends_ … “Robin’s place… is with Batman,” he said, his voice quiet. “Believe me, Little Wing, you don’t ever want to lose sight of that. It’s what Bruce kicked _me_ out for.”

“It was?” Jason looked crestfallen. “I had fun on that one mission they let me on, though. Donna’s cool.”

Dick sighed, crossing his arms and leaning further against the back of the park bench. “What did I tell you, Jay?”

Jason rolled his eyes in exasperation. He mimicked Dick’s voice, except that he turned Dick’s inflections into the rough equivalent of a nagging old aunt’s. “Don’t make Robin your entire identity, Jason. There will be a life after Robin, Jason. Focus on Jason, too, Jason. Christ, I got it, already.”

Dick frowned, unimpressed. “I know that Bruce forgets, lately, and I don’t want you to go down that path. You hear me? Think about… school. College. What you’re going to major in. What job you’re going to have. You’re his son now.” He swallowed the bitter taste that came with _that_ particular reminder. “Forget the Titans. You could have such a bright future waiting for you out in the real world, kiddo.”

Jason snorted. “He took me in off the streets, Dick. Forget the _future_ , I’m not even used to thinking past surviving the next five minutes.”

Dick smiled and stretched his arms out. “You know I’m going to translate that as _you want a hug_ , right?”

Grudgingly, Jason let himself be pulled down onto the bench, Dick burying his face in his hair so that Jason wouldn’t see the complicated mix of _I-hate-you-I-love-you_ in his eyes. “Come on,” he said as they pulled apart. “Let’s get you home before you’re missed.”

He drove Jason back, stopping in front of the manor gates. Jason slid off his seat, slinging his bag back onto his shoulders. “You sure you don’t want to come in? Say hi?”

Dick forced a smile and ruffled his hair. No, he _didn’t_ want to see how well Bruce was doing without him, thank you. “I’m good. Tell Alfred where you were so you don’t get in trouble, okay?”

“Yeah. See you, Dick. I had fun.”

“And, hey.” Jason turned. “…Don’t let the bullies get to you. They’re only jealous.”

Jason grinned. “Nah, I don’t. It helps when I remember that I could kick their asses if Bruce let me. Besides,” he smiled, “I got a big brother who’s got my back now, yeah?”

He looked so happy that Dick didn’t have the heart to correct him – had Dick _ever_ been a son to Bruce? Considering how easy it had been for Bruce to drive him away and then _replace_ him, he highly doubted it.

“…Yeah,” he answered, faking a smile.

* * *

**now**

Sleep evaded him. Dick sat at the kitchen table, toying with his mother’s cards, having stopped bothering to check the time after the last instance he’d looked up and found that it was midnight. He had never wanted anything as desperately as he wanted to check on Roy, in that moment. It took all of his willpower not to just do it— he began shuffling the cards in his hand, randomly pulling out one after the other in an effort to distract himself.

The Emperor – _What does Bruce have to do with anything?_ The Fool, reversed – _Reckless, stupid, stupid, stupid…_ The Lovers – _Tell me something I don’t know._ Four of Cups, reversed – _Did I take it all for granted?_ Justice – _Karma’s catching up._ Three of Swords— _no._ Dick pushed the cards away, but, watching them rain down onto the ground wasn’t enough to silence the fear and frustration inside of him. He pushed the hair back from his face, his elbows resting on the table. Closed his eyes, praying that Roy would be alright.

 _Screw it._ He pushed his chair back and stood, heading in the direction of Roy’s room with the kind of silence he usually reserved for missions. Slowly, carefully, he eased the door open, peered in, and released a breath, relieved, when he found Roy asleep. With quiet footsteps he entered and shut the door behind himself, dropping to his knees beside the bed; pressed a hand against Roy’s forehead.

Clammy… he grabbed the towel that he’d draped over the headboard earlier, running it over Roy’s face in gentle caresses, again and again. Another lifetime ago, Roy had told him he loved him by confessing that Dick’s happiness was his happiness; Dick’s pain was his pain.

“…I understand,” Dick whispered, because he knew Roy couldn’t hear him. The exhausted kind of sleep which usually followed the bad adrenaline rush that came with pain was the world’s most effective tranquiliser, as he had learned from experience. “I… know that you don’t believe in _the one_ , Roy, but… call me old-fashioned, a romantic, whatever. I do. I believe in soulmates.” He swallowed. “And I think _you’re_ … it. And that… that…” He laughed under his breath, humourless, ironic. “That makes me feel… like the first time I ever saw the Diablada in Bolivia. You know? Impressed, but… terrified. Just a little bit terrified.”

He paused his hand, where it was still holding the towel against Roy’s cheek with the kind of care that anyone would use while handling something precious. “I would do _anything_ , if it meant that you never have to hurt again, Roy,” he whispered. Glanced at his phone, Jason’s number still on the screen, indicating a call that had lasted three and a half hours. “…Anything.”

* * *

**then**

“ _Don’t you dare blame me for Jason’s death! Don’t you dare!_”

The punch caught him completely off guard, more so than even Bruce raising his voice, like that, had done. Dick could hardly gather his wits enough to stop his own fall— and he hit the ground, cheek smarting. His hand touched the bruise, too shocked to react. Sure, Bruce had hit him before, but that was… as _Batman_. Cowl _on_. When he’d been brainwashed, controlled by evil, psychic weirdoes. Never like this.

“Why did I think I needed a partner!?” Bruce was continuing, with more emotion than Dick had ever heard from him in the past. “They _slow you down_. They make you worry about _them_ rather than doing your job! He wouldn’t _listen_. He wanted to do everything _his_ way. He was _just_. _Like_. _You_.” And every word felt like yet another punch to the face. “In a few years I would have had to _fire_ him as I did you!” He towered over Dick, and Dick had to resist the urge to crawl a step back.

Robin had been afraid of Batman, sometimes. But Dick Grayson had never had to be afraid of Bruce Wayne before. Not once.

“Why are you pretending to be concerned about Jason? You told me you resented it that I had adopted _him_ and not you!” Bruce seethed.

It hit the nail right on the head, so of course Dick’s defences flew right up and he found his voice again. “No, I didn’t!” he protested. “I only asked _why_ you adopted him!”

“We’ve gone over this before, Dick. I’m not interested in continuing this conversation.” A quieter anger in Bruce’s voice now, somehow more terrifying than all the shouting had been. “I suggest you _leave_. And give your key to Alfred on your way out. I don’t need a partner. I never should have had one. And I never will again.”

He stormed off, cape billowing out behind him and hitting Dick in the face. Dick heard the clock slide back down, and he jumped. Then, silence.

Vaguely, he realised that he was shaking. Pulling his knees up, he buried his face in his lap, the tears that he’d been holding back falling free and uncontrollable. “… _I’m_ alive,” he hissed, through quiet sobs, even though Bruce could no longer hear him. He could almost imagine the bullet-shaped scar that the Joker had given him so dangerously close to his heart twinging, demanding that Bruce notice it. Remember. “… _I_ survived. _I’m_ alive, Bruce.”

What could it matter? Jason was dead. Jason, the actual son. Dead. His tears came harder. _I got a big brother who’s got my back now, yeah?_

“It’s not _fair_.” And Dick wasn’t sure if he meant Jason, dying so young, so violently, or Bruce kicking him out yet again, when all he had wanted had been— had been what, exactly? To comfort Bruce? _Yeah, right,_ he thought, hating himself. He had come home to assuage his own guilt and he knew it. Jason had needed someone more emotionally available than Bruce was after the life he had led – Dick hadn’t been there. Jason had gone off on his own, and _died_ – Dick hadn’t been there. Jason had been buried, probably, with only Bruce and Alfred to mourn him – Dick hadn’t been there.

He had only ever been around when he happened to remember Jason, the kid he loved and who loved him, and then cruelly pushed him away at the slightest reminder that he was also Jason – the replacement. A couple of afternoons spent together at the end of the occasional school day and one skiing trip for winter break once, what did it matter? There was so much more that Dick could have done, and he knew it.

Maybe it would have made a difference, if Dick had offered Jason a place with the Titans. God knows _he_ had needed them, when Bruce had first started giving up more and more of himself to the darkness that he fought every night.

He had just wanted _one_ thing that was entirely his own. Bruce could hand out his mother’s name for him to this kid, fine. Bruce could never touch the Titans.

 _Petty. Jealous. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Dick turned his head, to face the case that now held Jason’s old uniform. “…I know you thought the world of me,” he whispered. “You were wrong. I’m so sorry.”

A terrible thought assaulted him – _it must have been lonely_. Buried under rubble, beaten so thoroughly he could no longer move, lying next to the body of the woman that he’d believed was his mother… and realising that Bruce wouldn’t make it.

It must have been… so…

A fresh bout of tears overcame him, and Dick’s hands tightened around his knees. He wished that this was a nightmare, that Bruce would come and wake him up and hold him and promise that there was no one, no one who could ever take his place.

 _You’re not a child anymore._ He sniffed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and standing again. Welcome to the real world, where young boys die lonely and not-parents are fallible and you’re told to leave the key and never come back.

He started to exit the cave, palm pressed against the scar on his chest. Wished, absurdly, that the Joker had succeeded, and he’d died innocent.

So Bruce would mourn him, too.

* * *

**now**

Roy’s eyes fluttered open just as the sun was rising. Dick felt a weight leave his chest, and he leaned forward in the chair he had pulled up so that he could be next to Roy through the night. He ran gentle fingers through Roy’s hair, smiling, soft and hesitant. “How are you feeling?”

Roy frowned up at him. “…Wait, did… did you not sleep at all last night?”

“Forget about me. For once.” Dick shook his head, voice hoarse. “Is the pain any better? Should we go to the hospital?”

“It’s gone.” Roy pushed himself up, and Dick helped arrange his pillows so that he could lie back in comfort. Roy wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Dick, about yesterday… if I said anything hurtful…”

“Don’t.” Dick squeezed his hand, reassuring. “You’ve taken worse from me, when I’m _clear-headed_ , Roy. I couldn’t have possibly taken any of it to heart. Are you comfortable? Hungry? Should I—”

Roy gave him such a wretched look that Dick instinctively pushed closer, alarmed. Roy tightened his hold on Dick’s hand before he could pull it away. “Listen, Dick…” he sighed. “My mind-mouth filter doesn’t kick in when I’m half-awake, so I should probably tell you all of this now. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, and all that.” He swallowed. “It’s about Jason.”

Dick nodded, slow, vaguely concerned.

“The thing is… Jason, was…” Roy trailed away, muttering under his breath, _got to get this out right_. Paused. Continued. “I was a different person, with Jason. No, I think we _both_ were different people, with each other. We were new to each other, do you… do you see what I mean? Practically strangers. I mean, sure, we’d met, once or twice, before _and_ after he… came back… but we never _truly_ met, I think. Not until. Well.” He cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say is there was a certain kind of… of freedom that came with being partnered with a stranger. I didn’t know his past. He didn’t know mine. We could rebuild. You know?”

Dick made an affirmative sound. He did understand, although he couldn’t really see where this was going. Roy nodded absently.

“I mean, we did share some of it I guess, over the years. Couldn’t avoid it all forever, not with that kind of proximity. But he didn’t… know me like you do. And I didn’t know him like Bruce did. Which was exactly what we both needed at the time, you understand? Fresh starts – new faces. Someone who looked at me and didn’t see the failure who let his daughter die. Someone who looked at him and didn’t see a kid with promise turned into a murderer by trauma. He was what I needed when I needed it. And vice versa.” He swallowed, muttering: _that’s what I thought, anyway._

Then he seemed to remember it was Dick that he was talking to and he smoothed the bitterness in his eyes away with half a smile. “Obviously, things are different now.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Dick asked, genuinely lost.

“Because— the phone call.” Roy averted his eyes, looking guilty. “I… I don’t want you to think that I pushed you away and then _Jason_ made it better.” He faced Dick again, eyes earnest. “I said that he was what I needed _when_ I needed it, and I mean it, Dick. It’s in the past. Over. Really, truly over. I swear it.” His voice turned quiet, almost a whisper. “No one has— no one _could_ ever take the place that you have in my heart, Dick. Honest.”

A lump lodged itself in his throat, and Dick had to blink a little too rapidly. Somewhere in the past, he was freshly twenty-one, and crying on the floor of the Batcave, desperately wishing Bruce would promise him that same thing: there’s no one, no one else.

He remembered the pain of it like an echo, but it remained an echo. Muted. He realised, surprised, that he didn’t want to hear the same thing from Roy at all. “…You were worried I was feeling threatened?” he asked. “Roy, it was the farthest thing from my mind.” And he meant it, he noticed, floored by the thought. “…It really was…”

_It makes me happy when you’re happy, and it makes me sad when you’re sad, Dick._

He could have laughed out loud if only Roy wouldn’t have worried that the lack of sleep had messed with his mind had he done it. “I just needed you to be okay. That’s all. Roy, even _if_ we were dating, I wouldn’t ask you to trivialise a relationship that clearly meant a lot to you just to reassure me. I couldn’t. You’ve seen me at my worst and loved me anyway. It can’t be asking for too much for me to accept you just the same.” This time, he did laugh, soft and fond. “I don’t want some lie about a Roy Harper who _doesn’t_ have a big heart that’s got too much love to give, and gives so freely. He wouldn’t be _my_ Roy, would he?”

Roy smiled back hesitantly. “…Yours, huh.”

“Mine.” Dick nodded, burying his face in the junction between Roy’s neck and shoulder. “That, I won’t compromise over.”

“Honoured.” Roy laughed; Dick felt it rumble against his skin, and it made him smile. “I wasn’t really lying, though. I don’t love him like I love you.”

Dick hummed, closing his eyes. “But you love him like you love him.”

Roy wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “…Yeah,” he half-whispered.

“Okay.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“…Okay.” Roy kissed his hair, rubbing his shoulders briefly. “Come up here, now. Come get some sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I’m not _not_ saying that “I was a different person with Jason” line was meant to throw shade at RHATO Roy. Because what even was up with that guy. That wasn’t my son.
> 
> Please tap that kudos button, bookmark, leave a comment, or subscribe! You can also follow my Tumblr, I’m anelderling.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://gatesofbabylon.com/thread/2005/romani-legends-stories) is my source for the Romani legends.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

“Turnips.”

“What?”

“Turnips,” Donna reiterated with a long-suffering sigh, like Dick was a kid who was acting purposefully dense. “We forgot the turnips. Damn it, I knew we missed something on the list.”

“Do without.” Dick shrugged. “I doubt I’d miss them all that much.”

“Honey, you eat like a toddler with a sweet tooth from hell. Of course you wouldn’t.” Donna shoved him, half-heartedly, not taking her eyes off the road ahead. “This is your fault. You show up unannounced, I haven’t been grocery shopping in weeks—”

“…You’re the one who’s set on cooking me a Valentine’s dinner, Donna, I didn’t ask…”

“Because it’s _Valentine’s_.” Donna huffed. “What do you take me for, why would I not do something special when you took the trouble of coming up here from the Blud, hmm?”

“ _Because_ it’s Valentine’s, I should be content to spend it with the most important woman in my heart, without troubling her with cooking and… turnips,” Dick countered.

Donna laughed. “You’re so full of it.”

“Why, did something change while we were separated? Should I delete our _platonic soulmates_ status on Facebook? On _Valentine’s_? You’re cruel, Donna Troy. Cruel and heartless.” Dick faked a sniff.

“Stop making me _laugh_ ,” Donna said through chiming giggles. “I’m mad about turnips, Dick.”

“I hope the turnips treat you better than I ever did. You’re a queen among vegetables.”

“Richard John Grayson-Wayne, I will keep driving until we’re back in Bludhaven if you don’t stop!” Donna laughed. “…Gods, I missed this. I missed you.”

Dick gave her a tender, grateful look. “Did you, really?”

“Things got so bad after you… were gone,” she said, her gray eyes sad. “I was a wreck. Diana and I – we almost fell out. ” She swallowed. “And to top it all off… well, you know what our boys are like, don’t you. Wally was coping in his own way, going ahead with life in fast-forward, as if, if he stopped for a moment, it would kill him. Garth stopped reaching out, like he always does when things get bad. If Karen and Lilith hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have become of me.” She fell quiet.

“…I’m glad you had someone,” Dick said, meaning it. “Donna, I’m so—”

“Apologise again and I will personally put you in an actual grave myself,” Donna cut in with a firmness in her voice that shut him right up. “If Bruce is interested, though, I’m willing to listen. But I can’t vouch for what may or may not happen after.”

Dick groaned. “Not you, too. That’s not fair. He did what he did because—”

“—Because you would die for him – and he knows it. It’s leverage. Just like everything else. Spare nothing for the mission, right?” Her grip on the steering wheel grew so tight that Dick worried she would crush it.

“The mission is all he has, sometimes. Be fair.” Dick sighed. “Although, honestly, I don’t know why I bother when it comes to you guys. You won’t listen to reason.”

“We stopped giving him the benefit of the doubt the first two times he made you quit the Titans, darling.” Donna rolled her eyes. “Sounds perfectly reasonable if you ask me.”

Dick shook his head, giving up. No one understood. Bruce hadn’t been quite on the right side of sanity, since Jason had died. And with the Titans, well. He’d been afraid of losing Dick. Simple as that.

“…Some people have been through so much, that they’re allowed a little more compassion, more… understanding, Donna,” he said, his voice soft.

She laughed, wry. “It’s funny how you’re willing to believe that of everyone but yourself.”

* * *

**then**

“On the morning of the first Good Friday, the little robin flew over the cross, where Jesus had been nailed to, and felt pity.” Dick watched the intricate henna tattoos on his mother’s hands twist and turn with her wrist as she ran her fingers through his hair, mesmerised. “It saw the thorns that made up his crown pierce his brow, and it wanted to ease his suffering.”

Romani stories were strange like that, his father, vaguely Christian, had remarked once. They mingled the Christian and the Pagan to somehow feel realer than other fairytales. Dick, all of five, understood nothing of the first half of that, having been raised with Saint-Sarah-who-was-also-Kali _and_ agnosticism _and_ the energy inside him that Madame Mystique said needed to be “in tune” or something if he wanted the Tarot to tell him the truth. But he did understand that they felt realer.

“So the robin flew up to his forehead, and tugged, and tugged, at each thorn with its little beak,” Mary continued. “But the thorns had been lodged so deeply into his skin, that all it succeeded in doing was opening up his wounds further and letting the blood flow freer.” Dick shuddered at the mental image, although, snug and safe under his favourite blue blanket, it was more a distant horror than anything else. “The blood of the Christ poured down the robin’s chest, and turned it scarlet. Robins still have the reminder of that incident on their red-breasts today.”

Dick yawned; smacked his lips a few times. “Is that why you call me Robin, _Dai_?”

Mary smiled down at him and lifted her hand. She clicked her tongue, mildly chiding. “We’re on Coney Island, sweetheart. I’m not _Dai_ here, remember?”

“…Mom,” Dick corrected himself, sheepish.

“That’s right.” She nodded approvingly. “In Tirana?”

“ _Nënë_.”

“Paris?”

“ _Maman_.”

She continued whispering places to him until sleep tugged him down, Dick vaguely apologetic that he didn’t have the energy to answer what he’d call her in Riyadh, _Ahm_ , sorry.

* * *

**now**

“So why are you here, really?” Donna asked, casually. The late afternoon sunlight spilling onto her kitchen floor lit up her eyes as she gave him a knowing, sideways look, wringing her hands to shake off the water from having just washed them. Dick paused where he had been helping her peel onions and glanced up, arching an eyebrow.

Donna laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t give me that look. It’s Valentine’s. Aren’t you supposed to be at home with Roy?”

“Roy? Oh, no, we… we’re not dating,” Dick corrected her, although it came out a little more defensive than he would have liked it to.

“Really?” Donna blinked, surprised. “The way he talks about you… well, but I suppose he always did talk about you like that. Him and Wally.”

Dick chuckled. “Did everyone else notice that except me, apparently?”

“Mm-hmm. World’s Second Greatest Detective, my ass.” Donna nudged him. “But to be fair, it took _me_ quite a while to realise about Wally, too.”

“Right? It’s because when Roy likes you, he’s so…”

“…Unapologetic, like…”

“…In your face about it,” Dick agreed. “And he’s got this personality that just…”

“…Demands that you pay attention?”

“Eclipses everything else.” Dick shook his head. Sighed. “Actually, Don, I— came because I really needed to talk about him with someone who gets it. That’s, if you don’t have too much on your plate, though, of course.”

“Say no more.” Donna pulled up a plastic chair from the table at the centre of her kitchen and sat down across where Dick was leaning against the counter, his eyes on the peeled onion that he was now absently turning from side to side. “I don’t know if I can say that I’m the resident Roy Harper expert, exactly, but I did take most of his virginity and that counts.”

“Donna!” Dick chided, scandalised. She laughed.

“Go on. What’s the problem?”

“What _isn’t_ the problem,” Dick muttered, glaring down at the onion. He sighed. “I was fairly convinced that if I came here, and got it all off my chest, you would somehow make it make sense, like you always do. But now that I’m here I’m not even sure where to begin. It’s just such a mess in here, Donna.” Touching his chest, over his heart. “All I know is I could use some advice.”

“Look at you. Actually asking for help.” Donna smiled, soft, taking his hand and squeezing. “I’m so proud. How about we start with my perspective on you two over the years?”

“Sure.” Dick shrugged, relieved that someone was taking the reins. “That sounds alright.”

She nodded.

“You’re not dating.”

“No.”

“But you always _have_ been not dating,” she continued, making air-quotes around the last words. “Always _clearly_ been in love – but not dating.”

Dick’s shoulders fell, and he let out a tired breath. “It’s been that way since we were kids, you know? And Roy… he makes it so easy.”

“I know.” Donna hummed, musing. “When I was with him – the second time around, I mean – he gave me so much space to figure out what I wanted. Of course, I don’t have your ideals about relationships, so that went both ways for us. I didn’t mind him exploring his options with other people if he wanted to, either. That part’s different with you, I suppose.”

“So different.” Dick forced a laugh under his breath. “I’m afraid of smothering him, sometimes.”

“Maybe _that’s_ worth noting.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re afraid,” Donna clarified. “For him? _Of_ him?”

* * *

**then**

“The robin flew down to hell one day,” Mary said, one hand playing with a dahlia that was poking its head out of the bushes. “It pitied the souls of the damned. So it carried a drop of water in a leaf—”

“In its beak?”

“In its beak.” She smiled and ruffled Dick’s hair. “But as it flew over the screaming, tortured souls and tried to tip the drop of water down to them, the water dried up because of the heat from the flames. The robin tried to fly lower and reach the people, but the flames scorched its chest. And so, all robins have red-breasts to this day.”

Dick, six and a half now, easily impressed by the world, glanced up at his mother’s long, silky hair and imagined that she could pass for a saint-goddess. “Is that why you call me Robin, Mom?”

“Mary! Dickie!” At the other end of the little park, his father held two ice-cream cones up, smiling wide and beckoning.

“Come on,” Mary said, leading him towards John by the hand.

* * *

**now**

“It’s just easier, to have that line between us. You know? No matter how thin it may be.” Dick swallowed, keeping his eyes on Donna’s hands resting on her lap instead of meeting hers. “I can’t hurt him, and… he can’t hurt me.”

“But he does,” Donna said, tentative, something like pity in her voice. “Every time his eyes wander. He does.”

Dick laughed quietly. “I can take it.”

“You don’t have to,” Donna answered. “Ask him to be exclusively yours. Ask for commitment. I don’t know anyone half as loyal as Roy can be – you can’t deny that.”

“Of course not,” Dick whispered. He only had to look at Cheshire for the proof of that. No matter what that woman had done over the years, Roy would never willingly harm her without cause. And even if he _had_ cause, he tended to pull his punches. They never even were in a relationship per se, but she was the mother of his daughter and to Roy, that was that.

“So why don’t you, Dick?”

“We’re going in circles.” He forced a laugh under his breath.

Donna smiled, pained, and turned to look out the nearest window. “You know, sometimes… Roy and I talk about how you, and— Wally, and Garth, are such, I don’t know, _angels_. You’re so kind despite all the bad things that you went through. I mean, we’ve experienced our share of suffering as well, no doubt, but— the three of you… it’s a miracle that you survived the things you did and still hold no resentment, for the world.” She paused. “Roy theorised about it once. He said: _well, you know, to tenderise something, you got to beat it up a lot, right? Maybe it’s the same. Maybe tender hearts turn out like that because they’ve been so battered and bruised_.”

“…Poetic,” Dick observed.

Donna nodded. “That’s the general problem with Man’s World, if you ask me. You seem to value strength so much more than you value courage.” She smiled, rueful. “Don’t get me wrong, it _is_ admirable how strong you have been over the years. Especially the recent years. By the gods, I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemies.”

“I’m assuming you have a point?” Dick gave her a small smile to lighten things.

“I’m getting to it.” Donna huffed, amused. “Strength is what man values, I’ve come to understand. Consequently – what the women, and everyone else who share his world, value, as well. It’s different on Themyscira. We’re warriors, yes – but if there ever was a time when we ever prized bravado over bravery, I wasn’t around for it. Maybe it’s because we were never conquerors, and that seems to be all that most men understand about war.”

“…I don’t think I like where this is going,” Dick said with a sheepish smile.

Donna returned it, unapologetic. “You hold your cards so close to your chest lately that I can’t tell what it is about the idea of a relationship with Roy that scares you, exactly. All I know for sure is that, whatever it is, it can’t have been there from the start. I remember when we were kids – you were so resentful when he and I first got together, I couldn’t understand it.”

“You noticed?” Dick muttered, embarrassed.

“You couldn’t hide your feelings half as well, back then, as you do now, Robin.” Donna laughed. “…You don’t have to tell _me_ what it was that went wrong down the line. But… don’t you think you owe it to _him_ , to tell him?”

Dick swallowed.

“He loves you so much, so _obviously_ , it’s getting a little frustrating for those of us watching from the sidelines, darling,” Donna continued with a kind smile. “Hasn’t he proved himself enough?”

Dick’s head shot up, eyes wide with small panic. “Of course he has. You don’t think— I do make that obvious, don’t I?”

Donna sighed. “That’s not what I— of course you do, Dick.” She shook her head. “Listen, sweetheart… if there’s one thing that I know about Roy, it’s that… he’s always struggled to believe that he’s worth something. That he deserves anything good. He has it drilled into his mind, somehow, that he can do nothing but ruin everything he loves. Which means… which means he would let you get away with anything, do you… understand? Because he just— he doesn’t value himself enough not to.”

She averted her eyes. “He let _me_ get away with it. I understand what you mean, when you say that he makes it easy, Dick. He really does. I think Roy would happily give away all the love that he has to someone who he might believe needs it more, and expect none in return.” She looked up at him again. “I’m not blaming you—oh, alright, I might be blaming you a little bit. With love, though.” Soft laughter. “But… don’t you think it’s a little dishonest to keep letting him do it?”

“I… do,” Dick whispered. “It’s all I’ve been thinking of lately. You should’ve seen how willing he was to risk losing me when he arranged for all of us to meet again, Donna.” He caught her eyes. “ _You_ realised that you were using him and you ended things, didn’t you. I’m being so selfish, leading him on like this—”

“Dick, honey, _no_.” Donna’s eyes were almost pleading. She made a frustrated noise. “This isn’t coming out right, is it. Things were different between us. I never returned his feelings, at least… not in the way that he wanted me to. But _you_ love him like I can’t, don’t you? You might burn quieter than he does, but I’ve known you long enough – well enough. I can see it, Dick. You do.”

Dick turned away. Nodded, slowly.

“All I’m saying is, that maybe… maybe those feelings are worth making yourself vulnerable for. …Hmm?” Donna tugged at his hand until he turned to her again, and gave him a gentle smile. “If you get to keep the thin line that you say you need between yourselves, what happens then, Dick? Things play out exactly the same way they did two years ago? You get to be with Roy without _really_ being with Roy… until something happens? Maybe it won’t be a disaster like the last time, but he might meet someone new. Move on. What would it all have been for? …You see?”

Dick nodded once more, his thumbs idly peeling at the onion, just to keep his fingers from trembling too visibly. “The thing is, if I tell him what went wrong, what _is_ wrong, I—” He swallowed. “I just. I haven’t really… shared it, with anyone but a professional before. I don’t know if it’s something I _can_. It’s… hard, Donna. You have no idea.” His voice grew softer and he had to squeeze down hard just to anchor himself to the present, the sharp smell of the juice flowing out of the onion stinging his sinuses enough that his mind couldn’t check out. “It’s _more_ than just making myself vulnerable like you said.”

Donna watched him, eyes concerned. “I don’t have all the facts right now, do I.”

Dick slowly shook his head.

“…Oh, honey…” Dick jerked away, startled, when her fingers reached up and touched his cheeks, which were wet. He hadn’t even noticed.

“It’s the onions.”

“Of course.” Donna smiled, sad.

A quiet pause. “…Donna?”

“Yes?”

“Someone… someone ruined love for me,” Dick confessed, half a whisper, seething hatred in his voice. “Took it… kept taking it… and fucking _perverted_ it. I… I don’t know if I can ever love him like I used to. I just don’t know if I remember how. He deserves better, right? Not… not this mess.” He turned away, hurriedly wiping his eyes, pretending that he was putting the onion into the bowl of peeled slices. “…I’ll hurt him.”

A scraping sound as Donna pulled the chair closer. He felt her arms wrap around his waist, her forehead press against his back. “Maybe he _wants_ the mess,” she answered, voice gentle. “And I don’t know if you’ll hurt him, but there’s no sense in hurting yourself in the meantime, is there?”

Dick closed his eyes. He’d been lying to himself, hadn’t he, when he had told Roy that Roy reminded Dick of his mother. The truth of it was… _he_ had always been the one with his mother’s soul. And he knew it.

“You were right, you know. I _am_ scared of him.” Dick stared at his hands. “Of what he offers. It’s so different from what I’m used to, it’s… I don’t know if I can handle it.” He let out a shaking breath. “For so long, I’ve believed that relationships are… that they… I’m not supposed to have this much of a _say_ in them, damn it. Then Roy comes along and he tells me… love is simple. He tells me, it isn’t supposed to hurt. He’s not _demanding_ anything from me, Donna. Even though he has every right to. I’m so… confused. I don’t know.”

“And terrified?” Donna mumbled, her arms tightening around his waist.

He nodded. “If he’s right, what does that say about my… everything I’ve been through, did I _let_ myself go through them because I didn’t know any better, did I—”

“Dick, listen to me.” Donna pulled away, and tugged at his sweater until he turned. “You said you wanted my advice? Here it is – forget being strong, for once in your life. Be _brave_. Tell him. All of it. Maybe it works out, maybe it doesn’t. But the two of you deserve that chance, Dick, whatever the odds. All these years and all these feelings between you… you deserve it.”

Dick laughed a laugh that sounded startled out of him. “Egotistical as it sounds, I’m used to being the person that people look up to, Donna. Even Roy. My secret is the kind of secret that would tear down that image in a heartbeat; that’s the thing.” He shook his head, heart aching. “I can try. For him. But he’ll never look at me the same way ever again.”

Donna met his eyes, pitying. “So what do you want?”

“What do I want?” Dick repeated, huffing out an amused, sardonic breath. “I want to turn back time. And punch him in the face, after the first time he kissed me. Before he could decide not to _do anything_ and it all went to hell.” He sighed. “…But I have to settle for the next best thing, I guess. Fix the present. Hope for the future.”

With pride and relief in her eyes, Donna stood up and hugged him fiercely, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dick Grayson. You are loved. You are so loved.”

* * *

**then**

The robin and the thorns. Blood, dripping. The robin in hell. Fire. He was seven, almost eight, now, and the tears streamed down his face before he could hold them back.

“I _told_ you those stories were way too graphic for children, Mary,” said his father, somewhere, exasperation in his voice. “You couldn’t just tell him about Robin Hood or Cinderella or Superman, could you?”

“Oh, hush.” His mother clicked her tongue, mildly irritated, but still sounding fond. “He’s never cried because of them before, has he? He doesn’t have your soft heart, darling, he has mine. And much scarier tales exist, which _my_ mother told me at his age. I never cried because of them.”

“He’s crying right _now_ ,” John countered, shaking his head. “I’m willing to bet last month’s salary it’s because of that bedtime story. Should I handle it, or will you?”

“I’ll go.” Dick buried his head in his pillow when he heard Mary’s footsteps click-click-clicking against the trailer floor, coming closer and closer to his bed. “I know, baby, I know,” she whispered, soothing, running her fingers through his hair. “But they’re stories with wisdom, you see. They simply mean that… compassion, empathy and kindness don’t always get rewarded. Sometimes… sometimes they even get punished, in this cruel world of ours. I… hope and pray that it will be a long, long time before you fully understand that, my little Robin. But that’s how it is.”

Her fingers stopped their movements altogether, and despite his hitching breaths, he glanced up at her, half-curious. She seemed sad – older, somehow. He hated it. Wanted his father to come in and make her laugh that special laugh that only ever seemed to leave her when he was around.

“Still. I never want you to stop being just as kind, just as caring as the stories tell, expecting no reward. Will you promise me that, Dick?” She smiled down at him. “ _That’s_ why I call you Robin.”

“I promise.” Dick sniffed. “But that isn’t what’s sad about them, _maman_.”

“Hmm?” Mary blinked, tilting her head in a quizzical gesture. “…You’re _not_ crying because the stories scared you?”

Dick shook his head vehemently.

“Oh.” Confused, Mary pulled him closer. “Then what is it, my dear heart? What’s wrong?”

Dick couldn’t help the tears welling up again.

“It fails,” he said, sobbing. “The robin. In both the stories. It fails.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do take the time to leave kudos, bookmark this fic, or type up a comment! My Tumblr is anelderling.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s the equivalent of the term OC, but for original fictional _places_? Because that would be what Lawei is. I watched Black Panther, and immediately started fantasising about a version of _my_ tiny little corner of the world that was never colonised, okay, sue me.
> 
> The flashback takes place during Roy’s JLA days.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

It was the quietest lunch Roy could remember ever having experienced under the Queen roof – and that was counting the times when said roof had been insured for more than a billion dollars; and only two people to live under it 24/7. At first he and Dinah had made brave attempts at initiating conversation, but Ollie and Dick seemed determined to appreciate the cutlery instead. By the time the chilli arrived, Dinah had pretty much given up. Roy cleared his throat and decided to give it one more try.

“So, uh. How about that second break-in attempt last night, huh?” he said. “Whoever’s paying these mercs and thieves to scare Domini sure is determined.”

Dinah glanced up at him from where she had been playing with her food, surprised. “You can still keep up with the news from here?”

Roy shrugged. “I hack into your local network when I’m bored.”

And then there was awkward silence again. Roy took a sip from his glass, uncomfortable. “…What I don’t get, is what your mystery sponsor plans on doing, exactly. I mean, if _I_ were to steal a diplomatic gift given to someone by an isolationist community that’s only recently dared to reach out to the outside world in baby steps… it would be to fuck with whomever has to deal with the fallout, right? In this case, Domini. Or more specifically, what he represents – this whole corporate city experiment. So wouldn’t that put whoever it is on _our_ side? Why come after us, too?”

“Maybe it’s for a different reason,” Dick suggested. “Maybe it really _is_ just about the necklace. …Laweian, did you say?”

“Mm-hmm,” Roy answered, so relieved that Dick was engaging in the conversation that he almost smiled wide. So not the time.

“Well, what do you know about Lawei?”

Roy took a minute to think about it. “One of— seven, I think—? Yeah, seven sovereign states, nestled in the hills between India and Bangladesh, _Land of the Seven Sisters_ , they call themselves, mostly tribal population, miraculously fought the British colonisers and won, have all been distrustful of foreign outreach ever since. Lawei was the first to venture out in the last two decades or so. Met the princess once. Nice girl.”

“Really?” Dinah blinked. “On CBI business?”

“Nah.” Roy smiled, nostalgic. “Remember that festival for indigenous people from around the world, to make a point about sustainable agriculture and tackling climate change and stuff? About… seventeen, eighteen years ago? Mother Earth Festival or something along those lines?”

“No, I never heard of it.”

“Well, the general idea was that since indigenous people live close to nature, we could teach the world a thing or two about taking from it without destroying it. Anyway, my fath—my, uh. The… guy who took me in… he was a chief at the time, so I got to go with him. Must have been around nine, I think? And I met her there. That’s about the extent of my knowledge of them, though.”

Dick took his hand underneath the table, and squeezed it. When Roy met his eyes, there was sympathy in them. He smiled back, grateful.

“What was the point you were trying to make?” he asked.

“Well, you answered your own question.” Dick paused to finish his spoonful. “ _Miraculously_ fought the British colonisers? Maybe there’s more to their artefacts than meets the eye.”

“What, like, it’s magic, or something?” Roy arched an eyebrow.

“As though we haven’t seen stranger things? Look— how else would you explain a few scattered tribes armed with bows and arrows fighting back the British Army, with their canons and guns?”

“…You’re underestimating bows and arrows,” Ollie piped up, which was the closest he’d come to addressing Dick directly all afternoon. “I think both of you have a point but the _why_ of it isn’t as important as the _how_ in this situation. Have you even heard about the Domini family’s security systems? Nate and every single one of his forefathers have always been rich and paranoid. Bad combination— or, well, a perfect one if you’re the guy selling them security systems, I guess.” He shrugged.

“I agree,” said Dinah, nodding. “I wouldn’t even bet that Babs could bypass their security – _Babs_. Whoever’s behind this is sending _us_ little more than a bunch of annoying flies, sure, but they’re clearly sending the best of the best for the actual target: the necklace.”

“Then again, remind me why we even care.” Roy snorted. “If there’s one person who deserves to lose face in the eyes of the entire world for losing something as important as that, it would be Mayor Domini.”

“…Wow. The defenders of justice, everybody,” Dinah drawled, sarcastic, laughing and shaking her head.

“Technically, I’m an Outlaw,” Roy countered with a smirk. “Say – if that means I have more Robin Hood cred than any of you guys, shouldn’t _I_ be wearing the green? Just saying, Ollie.”

A sweet laugh from his right and Roy turned, surprised. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d heard Dick laugh like that: all pure, genuine amusement, nothing rehearsed or bitter about it. “What’s so funny?” Roy asked, unable to help smiling himself.

“Nothing. You in green…” Dick composed himself, although there were still quiet chuckles under his words. “You’d look like a leprechaun…”

“Hey!” Roy exclaimed, feigning offense. He played at tackling Dick, by the waist, which only set Dick laughing again. Someone cleared their throat, and Roy remembered that, well, _other people_ existed. He stopped – Dick taking a moment to regain the quiet grace that he usually carried himself with in social situations, his forehead pressed against Roy’s shoulder, and then pulling back with an apologetic half-grimace at Dinah and Ollie.

“…Sorry.” He tucked a strand of his hair behind one ear in a self-conscious gesture. “Um, the food is delicious, by the way. Great chilli.”

“Seriously?” Dinah and Roy said at the same time, incredulous.

“The kid’s got good taste,” Ollie said, and Dick smiled, clearly relieved; like Ollie was talking about something else entirely. Roy was afraid to ask.

“How could it possibly taste like anything other than edible hellfire?” he questioned instead, making a face.

“The spiciness? It’s not so bad.” Dick shrugged. “You should try Thai food.”

Which caught Ollie’s attention, and the pair started a long rambling about foreign cuisine that Dinah and Roy couldn’t follow, because they were suddenly the best of friends now, apparently.

After lunch, Roy stood up, taking Dick’s fingers in his hand as he did, and led him out to the back porch while Ollie and Dinah cleared up, having been pretty insistent about it. Dick stood leaning against one of the pillars while Roy half-sat on the railing next to him. “I thought you asked me to come to lunch with you to make it more bearable,” Dick said, smiling playfully. “So why did it feel more like I was meeting the parents for the first time?”

“They’re not _officially_ my parents,” Roy protested, laughing. “And you’ve met them before, what the hell.”

“All I’m saying is, if you’re allowed to ambush me with something like this, then it’s only fair that you come round to the manor as well. For _dinner_.” Dick smirked even as Roy blanched.

“…Oh, no. Hell no. Do you _want_ me to get lynched by Batarangs? Bruce disapproves of me dating you, you know that. Always has, always will.”

“No, he does—well.” Dick tilted his head, reconsidering.

Roy laughed as he nodded. “Yeah, see? No one wants Big Bad Rebel Roy Harper corrupting their beloved, perfect golden child.”

“But we’re not teenagers anymore…” Dick smiled, watching with unguarded anticipation as Roy stood up, and stepped closer to him. “I bet you could teach _me_ a thing or two about responsibility these days.”

“Jesus. I hope not. That would mean I grew boring.” Roy gave him a crooked grin. He braced a hand on the space by the side of Dick’s head, cornering him.

“Hmm. Well, maybe you did.” Dick’s voice was growing soft, smoky; his smile a flirtation, head tilting upwards by the slightest inch.

Roy leaned down, mumbling, “Okay, well, allow me to convince you otherwise, then, Pretty Bird…”

He let out a startled noise that came awkwardly close to being a squawk when Dick pressed a hand against his mouth, pushing so forcefully that Roy’s back hit the other pillar opposite the first. “What the _hell_ , Roy, don’t call me that where Dinah can hear!” Dick hissed at him with a giddy little laugh, his face flushed red.

Something bubbled up inside of Roy, half-laugh, half-squeal, a weird mix of overexcitement and frustration that one would get at the sight of an exceptionally adorable puppy, or something. He pulled Dick flush against his own body, holding him tight, resisting the urge to squeeze. “I’m glad you came, Dick.”

Dick smiled into his neck. “Yeah. Me too.”

* * *

**then**

“…Mm,” Dick moaned around Roy’s tongue, using his legs to push himself further back against the pillows. “You’re eager, today,” he whispered, except he sounded more confused than teasing. Roy gave him the closest approximation of a genuine smile that he could muster, even if his heart wasn’t in it. He said nothing in answer; only kissed Dick even harder.

“Roy,” Dick panted, chasing his breath, when they finally had to part for air. “Roy, what’s wrong? You seem…”

“Can’t I just be glad to get to be with you again after all this time?” Roy insisted, still smiling his forced smile. “I feel like I haven’t seen you since…” _Why are there always days and months and years between us?_

Dick leaned up and kissed him again, and when he pulled back, it was with a loud sucking noise because Roy had fought so hard against letting go. “…No, something’s wrong. You’re…”

“Eager? You said that already.”

“Roy.” Dick gently pushed him off of himself with a hand on his chest, sitting up in the same fluid movement. He pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “Breathe with me… there you go… just breathe, my treasure.”

Roy laughed; it came out almost strangled. He felt like he hadn’t been this still since… “There’s no pretending around you, is there.”

“If I don’t know you, who would?” Dick smiled, soft, kind. He reached a gentle hand up and cupped Roy’s cheek. “Do you want to talk about it? I—”

The buzzing sound of a cell-phone vibrating against the wood of the bedside table startled them into silence; Roy reached out and grabbed it, the caller ID stopping him cold. _Pretty Bird_. Really? Right now?

He swung his legs down and off the side of the bed, turning his back to Dick. In a dull voice, he answered, “What?” Accusations, accusations, accusations. “I thought we were fighting.” Excuses. “That doesn’t change the fact that—” Anger. “Look, I’m tired. Can we deal with this tomorrow?” _That_ question. “ _Yes_ , I’m with someone. You get to have someone, and I don’t?” Excuses. “Fine.” Excuses. “Okay.” Silence. “I’m hanging up now.” He cut the call.

Moment ruined.

Dick’s arms wrapped around his bare skin, meeting at his chest. The caller ID was still on the screen. Roy felt Dick’s chin rest on his shoulder, Dick sucking in a sharp breath. “…Pretty Bird…?”

“Kendra,” Roy explained; a mutter. He’d treated swear words with more dignity, he thought, ashamed.

“…Oh.” Silence. When Dick placed a kiss on his shoulder, Roy thought he could feel him trembling. Concerned, he turned around, but Dick was only smiling. “You two are serious, huh.”

Roy laughed, bitter. “That’s one word for it.”

“What’s wrong?”

It must have been the sincere concern in Dick’s eyes, or the determination in the way that he clutched his shoulder like he was trying to ground him. Roy broke down, spilling everything.

“—It’s just, I don’t know, everything is so _intense_ with her, but then she can get so damn cold, too, and— God, Dick, I don’t think she even _likes_ Lian, I mean, she tries, but, she had it so hard, I guess, I don’t think she knows how to… how to even… fuck, what was I thinking? What in _hell_ was I thinking? She’s literally _programmed_ to love somebody else, I…”

Except he _did_ know what he had been thinking. He’d wanted what everyone else had, wanted to see what was so wonderful about it – Wally and Linda, Ollie and Dinah. But the person whom he had wanted it _with_ – even in theory – just wasn’t an option. Roy understood that there was a line between him and Dick, that he wasn’t supposed to cross. And then their lives had grown more and more separate, so when Kendra had come along, he’d thought, why not.

Everyone had tried to warn him – Ollie, Hal, Donna. Everyone, except Dick. Maybe that’s why Roy had kept going. Maybe…

“I feel so _trapped_ ,” Roy whispered. “I feel like I’m being buried alive, I’m suffocating.” Dick kissed him, and Roy closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the emotion rising up inside of him. The words left him before he could stop himself: “Why her? Why can’t it be _you_ , Dick, why?”

Dick froze, his hand, which had been rubbing comforting circles into Roy’s bare back, convulsing once. “…Roy… baby, what makes you think that it would have been any different with _me_?”

Roy smiled to himself, sad. “That’s not an answer.” He turned, and gently pushed Dick back down again, crawling over Dick and grabbing a fistful of one half of his unbuttoned shirt, frustrated. He felt ashamed about throwing caution to the wind and confessing all of his problems like this, but he was too agitated to take it all back, either. “Come on, Dick, just one reason. I swear I’ll never bring it up again. And I won’t hold it against you. Just— just tell me why. Is it Barbara? You’re still waiting on her?”

Dick tore his eyes away, saying nothing.

“…Is it me?” Roy continued, resigned. “You don’t think I’m… you know, worth—”

“No.” Dick wrapped his arms around Roy’s neck, so tightly that he involuntary pulled Roy down towards himself. They kissed, and Roy could tell that this was Dick making a last-ditch attempt to distract him. If Dick was that desperate to change the subject, then Roy didn’t have the heart to press, but…

He hated to admit it to himself, but sometimes… sometimes he resented Dick. Just a little, but. Sometimes. He really, really did.

“Can we pretend?” Roy whispered. “That… that it _was_ you? That nothing outside this room is real, can we pretend… that I never let you slip away, that I’m the one you chose for forever?”

He watched with detached amazement as tears welled up in Dick’s eyes, and he braced a hand on Roy’s chest, pushing Roy off, almost apologetically. “…No,” he answered, smiling, bittersweet. “I won’t let you do that to yourself, Roy. I can’t. I’m sorry.” He visibly swallowed. “Maybe— maybe we shouldn’t, tonight. Maybe you should go back to your _other_ Pretty Bird and resolve things and— and clear your head, gain some perspective, remember why she’s the one you wake up to every morning and not me.”

Roy closed his eyes, and, sighing, he nodded slowly. They hadn’t done much, but he felt exhausted as he pulled his shirt back on. “You use the word _remember_ , as if I ever knew the answer to that, Dick,” he said, making for the door. For once, he didn’t pause to let Dick answer.

* * *

**now**

There was a feverish light in Dick’s eyes, that Roy knew meant that his mind was going a million miles a minute and wouldn’t let him sleep. There was usually no way to save him from it except to tire him out, and since there was no place to spar and Roy wasn’t sure if they were at the point where he was allowed to attempt the _other_ guaranteed way of achieving that, he could only sigh and join Dick at the window.

Earlier, Ollie had cornered him, an inscrutable look in his eyes. “…He’s okay, you know,” Ollie had said, and Roy didn’t need to ask, to guess that he meant Dick. “I did doubt it at first, because I know his kind, and I know what they can be like. Not that I’m one to talk – I’m far from Father of the Year, but.” He’d placed a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “One thing I’m _not_ , is blind. He looks at you a certain way, huh? He’s okay.”

Roy smiled at the memory. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

Dick turned his eyes away from the stars and the city lights and gave Roy a little smile. “I was remembering the last time Ollie and I talked outside of uniform.”

“Thinking of another man while you’re in a hotel room with me? Ouch.” Roy laughed.

“It was about you,” Dick continued, only laughing along half-heartedly. “…Roy?”

“Yes, _bił hinishnáanii_.”

“Tell me something.” He pulled Roy down to join him on the windowsill by the hand. “And be honest, okay?”

“Of course.”

Dick shook his head, insistent. “No, seriously. I know you have the chivalry of someone _actually_ from Robin Hood’s times and it’s noble of you to put my feelings before yours, it is, but please. Tell me the truth. No filters.”

Roy tilted his head. Intriguing. “…Yeah, alright. What is it? You’re making me all nervous.”

Dick played with Roy’s hand where it was still caught in his. “I know we’ve been here before,” he said. “This… _this_ , between us. Together but not. And I have to know… did it— did _I_ — hurt you? Doing this?”

“Dick…” Roy sighed. “I told you, I won’t pressure you into doing anything that you—”

“—That I don’t want, I know. I know.” Dick laughed, humourless. “This is the first relationship I’ve had, in a long time, where that has _never_ been a doubt, Roy. I know. That’s not the question. Does this, this place we’re at, does it hurt you? _Did_ it hurt in the past?”

Roy said nothing, for a while, lost in memories. He closed his eyes, and breathed out, shaky. “Sometimes,” he confessed. “Let me put it this way. For so long, you… you were unattainable, you know? Like, I had my chance, and I blew it. You had Kory and Wally and Barbara and Joey and I don’t even know who else. You were happy and I was happy that you were happy. Right? And it was fine.” He swallowed. “But then… then the Outsiders happened, and things changed between us again and… and you weren’t supposed to be so unattainable anymore, except you _were_ , though. That – that was the hard part.” He smiled. “It’s alright, though. Life was hard on _you_ , then. I understand.”

Dick gave him a rueful, apologetic look. “…Do you?”

Roy laughed, wry. “No. Not really.”

Dick nodded, squeezing Roy’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should never have allowed you to become collateral to my issues.” He sucked in a trembling breath. “Roy, I… I don’t want that to happen again.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, and Roy felt his heart hammering in his chest as he met Dick’s eyes, mouth half-open. “…Are you… are you saying…?”

Dick smiled, though it looked sad. “Has it never crossed your mind that you deserve better than me, my treasure?”

“ _Deserve_ in the context of our interpersonal relationships is a myth perpetuated by the capitalist obsession with profit and merit and wow why am I still talking,” Roy mumbled in a rush.

Dick laughed, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, which didn’t help the burning in Roy’s cheeks any. “Roy.” Dick said it like it was the highest term of praise that he could think of. “Why do you love me?”

“… _Because_.” It came out incredulous; Roy stared at him. “Because… because watching thrillers with you is like watching them with the guy from CinemaSins, but you literally teared up when we watched _Inside Out_. Because you’re a functional cook but God, do you love to try – smoke detectors be damned. …Because you have such a capacity for cruelty in you that it fucking _terrifies_ you, but the way you fight it says more about who you really are than _it_ ever could. Because you’re kind, Dick. You’re so, so kind. It’s second nature to you, which is sad, because then you forget. Because— you can carry yourself with all the grace in the world, _and_ run barefoot out in the rain, too. Because you’re the most beautiful person, real or fictional, I have ever seen. …That _anyone_ will have ever seen.” A whisper: “Because you’re strong, and vulnerable, and sweet, and cold. Because you’re such a mess of contradictions, that I can’t leave you alone. Because it’s _you_ , Dick. Because it’s you.”

He could feel Dick’s hand trembling. Dick looked both touched and absolutely wretched, which Roy wouldn’t have guessed was even possible before tonight. “I… wish I could see myself the way you see me.”

Roy laughed under his breath. “Funny, _I’ve_ been wanting to say that to _you_ for years and years now.”

“We’re a pair, aren’t we.” Dick smiled, echoing Roy’s own words from a few months ago.

“Hopeless,” Roy agreed, chuckling. “Dick… I have _never_ wanted perfect. I know you have your demons. I’ve got some, too. All I have ever wanted, are flaws that go with mine. That’s it. That’s all.”

Dick pushed himself closer to Roy, stretching his arms out almost helplessly, and Roy pulled him into a close embrace. “Sometimes I think this can’t possibly be the only life where we’ve known each other,” he all but hissed it out, his voice quivering slightly.

Roy smiled into his hair, searching for something to say, to lighten things. “You know what I think? I think you must have been some kind of prince, once. And I was your most loyal knight. And then we fell in love, but of course it could not be, this being the golden days of heteronormativity and all.” Dick was laughing quietly into his chest, and Roy bit his own lip to keep from grinning. “So you married someone your parents chose, and I was devastated, I never loved again. And then I died protecting you, and your wife and kids – how else? – so my soul has been looking for yours ever since.”

“Well. Here I am,” Dick said, glancing up and smiling, like it wasn’t a joke.

“…Here you are,” Roy agreed, his voice soft and half-disbelieving.

They held the contact for a long, silent moment. And then Dick pushed himself off, with a hand braced on Roy’s chest, tucking a strand of his hair behind one ear as he did so. “…I, um. I spoke to Donna the other day,” he said. “About you. About us.”

Roy arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Dick nodded. He kept his eyes on his hands. “You’re so generous, Roy, that _life was hard on me_ is an acceptable excuse for my living up to my name back then, apparently, but I— I think, and Donna agrees, that you deserve the whole story. You deserve to know. I do owe you that much.” He closed his eyes, his hands curling into tight fists. “Whatever else you may believe, please, please know that none of it was ever your fault. I did have feelings for you from the start, that… that never changed.”

His shoulders were visibly trembling. Concerned, Roy leaned closer and touched his face, brushing his thumb just beneath Dick’s eyes. Dick reached out and tapped at Roy’s metal arm, laughing bitterly.

“You think you’re the only one between us, who’s less whole than he was on the day that we first met, Roy, and you’re so wrong.” He released a shaky breath. “I’ve had something taken from me, too. I’ve—”

He choked on the last word. Alarmed, Roy tried to catch his eyes, but Dick hid his face in his knees, shaking his head violently.

“Damn it. This is hard.”

“Stop it.” Roy clicked his tongue, mildly chiding. “When you’re ready, okay? When you’re ready. Don’t push yourself, Pretty Bird. I’m not going anywhere.”

“…You promise?” Dick mumbled into his lap, sounding so helplessly childlike that Roy’s heart broke.

“On my life, Dick,” Roy answered, voice hoarse. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead and call me a tease, I deserve it. I swear the actual Talk is coming soon. I. Swear.
> 
> Roy called Dick “beloved”, by the way; also, that indigenous festival that Roy mentioned off-hand was [a real thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPGsTB0EEYw) – and it was super fun. I just realised that Ollie made Roy promise to come to lunch on the other end of the fucking country every Sunday, holy shit? Either the writer is an idiot or Ollie is an asshole. …Yeah, let’s go with asshole.
> 
> If you liked it, please leave kudos, bookmark, subscribe, or comment! You can also find me on Tumblr as anelderling.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been a little rough on me lately, so of course that means that Dick and Roy are going to be extra gross and romantic with each other in this chapter, LOL. The flashbacks are set during the early Outsiders years, before the one in chapter five.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

Ever since he had “zoomed” his way back into their lives, Wally had taken to stealing Dick away as often as he could – sometimes for days, even, on the pretext (Roy was certain) of a mission assist. Or ten. Not that Roy minded all that much – Wally was only making up for lost time, after all – but it did mean that the sound of Dick’s voice drifting in from the kitchen that Friday came as a genuine, pleasant surprise.

Roy hooked the barbell that he had been bench-pressing back onto its rack, keeping still, certain that he had heard wrong. But no, that definitely had to be Dick. No one else had a singing voice as soft, as sweet.

He sat up, hastily towelled himself off, and all but rushed out of the training room for the kitchen, stopping at the doorway. It was Dick, alright – with his back turned to Roy, singing along to an old blues song playing on the radio while his hands unpacked the contents of a grocery bag.

Only Dick would remember to go shopping on the way home from a space mission, Roy thought, equal parts amused and helplessly charmed.

 _I loved that man from the start, and way down deep in his heart, I know he loves me, heaven knows why_ … Dick hummed the rest of the words, that he apparently couldn’t remember, smiling to himself as he turned around. He stopped abruptly, noticing Roy at last; his smile widening, his eyes growing soft. Roy knew he had to be mirroring the same expression, because his cheeks hurt.

One forgotten heartbeat of simply taking in the sight of each other after so long. And then Dick took a step forward, another, and another – before impatience seemed to get the better of him and he ran into Roy’s arms altogether. Roy caught him by the waist as he threw himself forward, yanked him up and spun them around once while Dick held on to his shoulders. When he set Dick down again, Dick refused to pull back where he had buried his head in the curve where Roy’s neck met his shoulders, probably embarrassed by what he had just done – this being Dick “never loses his composure” Grayson, after all.

Way to feed a guy’s ego, Roy thought, grinning stupidly.

He sang along with the rest of the song, faking an exaggerated baritone to make Dick laugh – _He’s not an angel or saint, and what’s the odds if he ain’t, with all his faults I know he’ll get by_ … _I’ll be so true to him, he’ll never doubt me_ … _what wouldn’t I do for that man_ …

Dick finally lifted his head, biting his lips, to keep from laughing and ruining the flow of it. He picked up where Roy had left off: _Oh when he lets_ … _me lean my, my weary head on his shoulder_ … _I close my eyes_ … _right there and wish I_ _never grow older_ …

“Glad I can cross out _Disney movie-style duet_ from my bucket list now.” Roy grinned. “Was that— okay, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure— was that… Paris?”

“No!” Dick laughed, almost incredulous. “Paris was Ray Charles’ _I Got a Woman_. I know, because I distinctly remember thinking about the irony in that.”

“Are you sure? Then where would I know the lyrics of this one from?”

“Oh, who knows, with you.” Dick rolled his eyes. “You probably have a special song for every person you’ve ever dated. Just like you probably charm them _all_ with that stupid, chip-toothed grin of yours, and call them _all_ your Pretty Bird, and—”

“You’re my only. You’re my only,” Roy insisted, laughing. “Come on, it isn’t fair to count the worst relationship of my entire life. Coming from the guy who dated the woman who once nuked an entire country.”

“Mm-hmm.” Dick huffed, sarcastic, unimpressed.

Roy shook his head. He pulled Dick closer and pressed a kiss to the top of his hair. “…Missed me?”

“…Like I was missing a piece of my heart,” Dick whispered, smiling up at him.

Roy squeezed him, tightly, helplessly, and then let go, smiling back. “Save the world okay?”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“How’s Wal and the twins?”

“Exhausted and literally growing up way too fast. In that order.”

“…Can I take you out on a real date tonight?”

Dick blinked, caught off-guard. Even the hand which had been slipping off his leather jacket as he had stepped past Roy into the living room stilled, he was that surprised. Suddenly an awkward teen asking his crush out to prom again, Roy averted his eyes, one hand reaching up and brushing the nape of his neck in a sheepish gesture. When he found the courage to look up again, Dick was tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear, shrugging a little too casually.

“I’d love to,” he said. “But I’m completely wiped out right now. How about we compromise and stay in instead? Do something… um, dinner and a movie?”

Roy nodded, smiling. “Sounds great. I’ll cook. What do you want to watch? We _could_ act our age for once and play one of those Oscar-bait movies everyone watches that tries too hard to be a French film—”

Dick cringed. “I would rather run naked into a chainsaw. If you make me watch one of those, I’m replacing your entire music collection with Britpop.”

“— _Meet the Robinsons_ it is.” Roy laughed.

* * *

**then**

“Are you sleeping with Grace?”

“Hmm?” Roy didn’t look up from the table of tools and spare parts that he was toying with, trying to figure out what was wrong with the T—the, uh, the jet. The O-jet? He frowned. Didn’t have the same ring to it.

“Grace,” Dick repeated, the name sounding a little muffled because his head and half his torso were buried up the underbelly of the just-a-jet jet. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“Grace prefers women,” Roy answered, off-hand.

Dick emerged and climbed off the stepladder, his shoulders covered in soot and black goo but still making it work somehow, Roy observed with only the tiniest hint of envy. “Not what I asked,” Dick said, without meeting his eyes. Roy blinked and deigned to glance up at last, curious about where this was going.

“Yeah, I’m sleeping with Grace.” He leaned against the table. “It’s just for fun, though. Don’t worry about it compromising the team or anything, boss…”

Dick hummed. He reached over for one of the toolboxes, and went to work again. And that should have been that, but Roy remained distracted. First Dick had been weirdly offended when he’d found out about Roy and Helena, now this? He stared at the wrench in front of him with more intensity than it warranted, heart hammering in his chest. Maybe… but no. It couldn’t be. Roy had missed his chance years ago.

…Right?

He kept his eyes on Dick’s back, his thoughts racing. He’d been with Dick, sure, about… three times…? New Year’s Eve, the night he fucked it all up. Once before Checkmate, when he’d gone to thank Dick for all of his help during the whole addiction mess (was that Dick’s first time, come to think of it?). And then Paris, of course. Best date he had ever been on. Before Dick and Kory had found each other and Roy had scrammed. (For the most part. Kory was so gorgeous that it would have been a sin not to acknowledge that sometimes.)

Sure, there had been the occasional – well, alright, _more_ than occasional – “flirting” whenever Roy’s cautious orbit around his old friends brought him close enough. But maybe Dick just liked to tease him? Yet, even as Roy thought it, he knew it couldn’t be true. Dick didn’t normally flirt outside of his committed relationships. It just wasn’t his thing, he tended to be private – _exclusive_ , even – with his affections.

 _Oh._ Roy Harper, you monumental idiot, he thought.

“…Are you… jealous?” he asked, still staring at Dick’s back, still half-disbelieving.

“No. I mean, she’s cool, but don’t worry, she’s not my type,” Dick answered, his voice echoing against the metal he was buried in again.

“Not of _me_ ,” Roy clarified. “Of Grace. And Helena, I think.”

A sharp _thunk_ and a hiss of pain, which probably meant that Dick had just hit his… something against… well, something. Roy winced, both sympathetic and apologetic at once. Dick stepped back down, swearing and shaking his hand out. Roy closed the distance between them in three long strides and coaxed Dick’s hand into his, inspecting it once and then cradling it while he dug around his pockets for a spare piece of Band-Aid.

“You’re so full of yourself sometimes, you know that, Harper?” Dick muttered as Roy patched him up.

“You’re terrible at asking people for what you want, you know that, Grayson?” Roy retorted. “…Why didn’t you just tell me? It’s only me, Dick. Only stupid, old Speedy. Hey, I’m honoured.” _And also terrified._ Dick – Jesus Christ. _Dick?_ Dick was _different_. Dick made Roy feel things that meant he would have to sign up for more than just some fun in bed. As a general rule, he preferred not to get involved with people who made him feel the kind of things that Dick did; Donna… Donna was different, Donna _understood_. Dick, though – Dick would get clingy and want him to move in and Roy would have to text him all the fucking time and they would fall asleep on the phone and—

“…Is there a particular reason why you’re holding your breath?”

“What?” Roy coughed. “Oh. Not really, no.”

He forced a short, casual laugh out. There was the promise he and Wally had made as kids to consider, too – the promise to always look out for their Robin, because he happened to be terrible at looking out for himself and clearly Batman either didn’t notice or didn’t care. If he started something with Dick, he knew he would only end up breaking it. Wally would kill him. Hell, he’d _help_ Wally kill him.

“I’m sorry,” Dick mumbled, catching him off-guard. “It’s stupid. Things have been so complicated after Barbara and I split, I… it’s nothing to concern yourself with, Roy. Forget about it.”

“Forget about you? Impossible, Dickie-bird. Believe me, I’ve tried,” Roy answered honestly, his voice quiet.

Dick laughed half-heartedly. “Always the smooth-talker.”

Done with the Band-Aid, Roy let go of Dick’s hand, his own feeling strangely empty immediately after. Dick started past him, heading for the door, but like some kind of knee-jerk reaction Roy grabbed his wrist and made him stop. “What?” Dick blinked, turning back around.

Roy cleared his throat. “…Do you, uh. Do you want me to _stop_ sleeping with Grace?”

A pregnant pause. Dick’s arm, which had tensed up when Roy had grabbed it, was slowly relaxing in his grip. He met Roy’s eyes, and then he stepped forward. Closer… and closer… _Pretty blue eyes_ , Roy thought. It was the last coherent thought in his mind before Dick’s hands crawled up his arms and then his shoulders and then his neck, buried themselves in his hair; and, oh, wow. Dick’s lips pressed firmly against his.

It should have been long enough now, for Roy to have forgotten what Dick felt like, but as it turned out… he definitely hadn’t. There was something different about it, at first, something almost like resistance, Dick’s lips forced against his like it was a chore, mechanical, constrained. But then Roy parted his, and brought his hands up to frame Dick’s face like the priceless masterpiece that it was, and let his tongue meet Dick’s… and suddenly, it was like the first time all over again, Dick melting in his arms.

Roy was sorry that it ended, when it did. There was a spark in Dick’s eyes that hadn’t lit them up in a long, long time; something almost like mischief. “Do _you_ want to stop sleeping with Grace?” he asked, a taunt under his words. He didn’t wait for an answer, making for the door.

Roy could only follow.

* * *

**now**

The movie had ended hours ago, but Roy couldn’t find the will to get off the couch and – judging by how close he had inched to Roy’s side, his head now on Roy’s shoulder – Dick didn’t seem to want to move, either. Roy had his prosthetic curled around Dick’s waist under the blanket they were sharing, his other hand idly toying with Dick’s fingers. The peaceful quiet had lasted for so long that he’d thought for a moment that Dick was asleep, but then Dick made a dissatisfied noise and shifted. Roy obligingly leaned further back to give Dick’s head more space to rest.

He felt Dick stiffen, his head leaving his shoulder abruptly. “…Your ear,” Dick said, surprised.

Roy grinned down at him. “Like it?” he asked, letting go of Dick’s fingers to reach for his new piercings and help Dick see them better. He had picked two basic cartilage piercings instead of just reopening his old one like he had first meant to. Something old, something new. “Oh, and since a certain gutsy little bird dared imply that I might have grown boring the other day…” He stuck his tongue out.

“Roy, you _didn’t_.” Dick laughed. He sat up and peered at the stud on Roy’s tongue. “Did it hurt?”

“No, but I couldn’t talk for three days straight, after. …Sure made volunteer night awkward.” He chuckled. “You know they have superhero-themed ones? It’s so weird.” Grinning, he pulled Dick closer. “Do I need a stud to get Nightwing on my tongue—”

Dick shoved him before he could even get the last word out entirely. “Roy!” He laughed, cheeks vaguely pinkish.

When his laughs became breaths, Roy leaned in again, inclined his head, and pressed a short kiss to Dick’s neck. “…They have vibrating ones, too,” he said in a low voice, making the suggestion obvious.

Dick shivered. He tugged the blanket high enough to cover his mouth, but Roy had caught him biting his lip. He smirked, arching an eyebrow.

“…You know exactly what you do to me, don’t you,” Dick said, his eyes dancing.

Roy smiled. He leaned closer, gently pushing Dick down with him as he did. The armrest cushioned Dick’s head, Roy’s arms on either side of Dick’s face. He bent. Closer.

Dick braced a hand on his chest to stop him.

Roy shrugged. Sat up again. “I think I should go check on the chick—”

“Roy.” Dick grabbed his wrist. Roy blinked, turning to him again. “If this is a date…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want…?”

“Always.” And then Roy laughed at his own poor choice of words. “Wait, no, that makes me sound like a horny teenager, I’m not Wally. You know what I mean.”

Dick sat up as well. “But this is a date.”

Roy raised an eyebrow, confused. “Yeah, we’ve established that. Twice.”

“So…” Dick made a vague gesture with his hand. “It, you know. Comes with the territory. Or whatever.”

“Says who?”

Dick blinked. Then he chuckled, startled. Tucked his hair away, that simple movement of his fingers somewhat… demure. Coy, almost. “Good question. I… I prefer going slow.” He said it like he was confessing to a guilty pleasure, Roy couldn’t understand why. “It’s old-fashioned – stupid, I know, but… I don’t know. I like the build-up. I mean, people, before, people used to court each other for days and weeks and months. The love letters, the flirting, the anticipation over the next time that you’d get to see each other again… I like that. The effort makes it seem… special. Romantic.”

He quickly switched gears, though, like he had just done something overly self-possessed in admitting to what he wanted. Roy resisted the urge to sigh. “Guess it’s different for you.”

Roy shook his head and smiled, kind. “No, not really. Any way the wind blows, baby. If you weren’t enjoying yourself, there would be no point in it for me, either. And I know you have… major control issues, so it’s probably a foreign idea to you, but – there are no rules here, Dick. We’ll take it one day at a time, yeah? Don’t feel like you have to meet some fictional checklist that you think will justify a movie and dinner from me. You want slow, we’ll go slow. No problem.” He laughed a little. “Although, fair warning, my letter-writing skills are shit.”

Dick stared at him for a long time. He cleared his throat. “…What if… what if we do that and I still say no in the end. What if?”

Roy shrugged. “I mean, I’d be disappointed, but that would be that, wouldn’t it.”

It worried him when Dick laughed a rather bitter laugh. “Shit, did I say something wrong?” he asked, stomach dropping. “I didn’t mean it like— I know it might sound… kind of flippant…? Kendra used to say it all the time, that it felt like I didn’t care as much as she—”

Dick shook his head. His laugh became fond, surprising Roy. “I take it back. You don’t have the slightest idea what you do to me.”

“What?” Roy blinked, confused.

Dick took both of his hands in his and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “…You’re not doing anything wrong, my treasure. Kind of the opposite.” He pushed Roy away, playful. “Dinner. Go. I’m starving.”

* * *

**then**

“…Wow,” Tanya said, a little breathless, and, honestly, coming from the beautiful, half-naked woman tangled up in lily-white sheets with the rising moon playing artist on her deep brown skin, it sure was something. Roy gave her a smirk.

“Wow yourself,” he said, winking.

She laughed and pushed herself up, resting her head on her hand, and her hand on her elbow, her curls all falling to one side of her face as a result. Roy couldn’t help keeping half his attention on her even as he pulled on his clothes, it was a _sight_.

“Sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” she asked. “I make a mean guacamole.”

“I can’t. My daughter should be back from school and after-school stuff by now, she doesn’t sleep well if I’m not there to tuck her in.” He laced his boots up as he spoke.

“Daughter?” Tanya blinked, surprised. “I didn’t see a wedding ring…”

“Oh, no, I’m not married.” Roy laughed. “Just a very single, very amateur dad here.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.” Tanya nodded with a polite smile. “You had me there for a second, I couldn’t peg you for the relationship type.”

Roy paused in pulling his jacket on, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Tanya, who’d been putting her hoop earrings back on, paused and gave him a scrutinising look. As if amused by whatever she saw on Roy’s face, she laughed, a loud, genuine sound. “Tattoos, piercings, and the dirtiest mouth I have ever been that… _intimately_ acquainted with, and it turns out he has feelings. Who’d have thunk.”

“Ouch.” Roy laughed along. “No, seriously. What did you mean?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, you just seem like a lot of fun is all. And by _fun_ , I also mean _trouble_.” She smirked, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. “Not exactly husband material, yeah?”

“…You think so?” Roy frowned, a crease between his eyebrows. “I mean— okay, I’m critical of the whole monogamous, hetero-patriarchal setup of marriage the way it exists in our society and all, but I’m guessing that’s _not_ what you mean when you say I’m not husband material, huh.”

Tanya laughed. “Hey, don’t over-think it, Roy. I don’t really know you, I don’t really know your story. Just judging from first impressions, here. That, and your looks. You know.”

“Yeah.” Roy shook himself out of it, giving her a casual smile. “Sorry, I’m not usually this…”

“Introspective?”

“Touchy.” Roy chuckled. “I should get going. You want to exchange numbers?”

“Yeah, sure, give me it.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it, even on the drive home. _Not the relationship type_ … Yeah, sure, he wasn’t, generally speaking— but not in the way that Tanya had implied, surely? Like he was some… some disrespectful, philandering… and why did it even bother him so much, anyway? It wasn’t the first time someone had pointed out his… less than conventional habits.

 _Yeah, but that was_ … _before_ …

He was struck by an intense need to see Dick, all of a sudden, something like guilt taunting him, something that felt as though Dick alone could absolve it. Climbing out of the cab and across the pavement to his apartment building, he raced up the stairs and pushed his door open. Ron and Lian had been watching TV, but at the sound of the door, Lian jumped off the couch and ran for him. “Daddy!”

“There’s my girl.” Roy held her tight where she had hugged him round his middle, that weird feeling of relief that always filled him whenever he saw Lian, like half his mind had expected to find her gone, rising up in his chest. “You had a good day?”

“Mm-hmm, Ashley brought her puppy, well, no, her puppy followed her all the way to school, and then we had to hide him and it was kind of scary but it was _so_ fun!”

“It sure sounds like it. Hey, you want to stay over at Uncle Dick’s tonight? We can make him watch _Rush Hour_ again, how does that sound?” He could feel Ron giving him a quizzical look, but he ignored it, smiling up at Lian where he’d scooped her up in his arms. “That okay with you, _She’awéé_? No boring shop talk, I promise.”

“Ooh, can we all sleep on the big bed again and can I be in the middle pretty please?”

“Of course you can.” He rubbed his nose against hers, making her giggle. “Come on, let’s go pack—”

Ron cleared his throat. “Uh, Roy, she has school tomorrow—”

“You trying to tell me how to parent my kid, Ron?” Roy half-joked, although something partly defensive and partly guilty really was lodged in his throat. “She’s only in preschool, man, ease up a little.” Wonderful – now he had _irresponsible father_ right next to _not the relationship type_ to feed his mini-panic attack and his suddenly reinforced self-image issues.

“…Daddy, that hurts,” Lian complained; Roy realised he was practically crushing her, holding so tightly, and he let her go hastily.

He braved a smile. “Sorry. Come on, upstairs, let’s go.”

A few hours later and they were at Dick’s, Roy holding his finger to his lips, with a small wink at Lian as he eased the door to Dick’s apartment open. Lian hid a giggle behind her hand, obligingly tiptoeing in after her father. It was all just to entertain Lian, of course; Roy knew that it was impossible to actually sneak up on Dick.

Amazingly, though, he was wrong – when they had shuffled across the living room and past the kitchen, both of which without their lights, for some reason, and finally reached Dick’s bedroom, Roy slowly pushed the door open and found Dick with his head in his hands at his desk, a bunch of files spread out in front of him and a completely unguarded look of utter panic on his face. He looked like he could cry at any moment. Roy froze, his heart clenching at the sight. Lian, however, innocent as she was, ran past him into the room.

“Surprise!” she shouted. “Hi, Uncle Dick!”

Roy watched as Dick jumped – _he really hadn’t noticed_ , Roy thought, scared – and turned to Lian with a dazed look on his face. Then he smiled. It looked helplessly relieved. “Lian, sweetheart, hi.” He glanced up at Roy, and the simple joy in his eyes, like Roy had just rescued him from some fate worse than death, sent warmth right through Roy’s heart. _Absolution_ , he thought, the uneasiness in him immediately quietening.

“I swear you’re the only person in the world besides Lian who looks honestly glad to see me when I show up.”

“…We’re in a pitiful mood today, Mr. Harper,” Dick observed.

Roy’s smile turned rueful. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t look like I’m the only one, Mr. Grayson.”

“Daddy!” Lian half-whined, tugging insistently at Roy’s hand. “Movie!”

“Sorry, baby, yeah. Let’s go.” Roy gave Dick a sheepish smile. “Uh, if that’s fine with—”

“Yes.” Dick cut him off, standing up. “Come on, Lian.” He took her hand.

Later, curled up on “the big bed” with Dick by his side and Lian fast asleep between them, Roy whispered, “You know, Dick, I never feel like I’m disappointing you,” something like wonder in his voice.

* * *

**now**

“—And then, I swear, Donna said, _isn’t that what seaweed’s for_?” Roy chuckled. “Garth was just barely holding it in, it was fucking hilarious. You and Wal really missed out.”

Dick almost dropped the piece of broccoli on the end of his fork laughing. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Why, thank you.” Roy bowed. “Anyway, that was my week. How was space?”

Dick cringed, setting his fork back down. “…Please, don’t ask. I _wish_ we had half as much fun. Not that it isn’t always great to see Wally, and it’s been so long since I last saw Jai and Irey, but, good God. At one point the two of us got trapped in this capsule thing – I think I may have claustrophobia now.”

Roy fake-gasped. “The two of you, squeezed together in an enclosed space? Scandalous. Flasher’s a married man, Short-Pants, don’t forget.” Dick threw a whole stalk of lettuce at him and he ducked, laughing. “Not that you have to worry about _me_ , it’s Linda that’s the problem. I’m not the jealous type.”

“No, you’re the _tell me everything that happened in lurid detail_ type,” Dick retorted. “Be honest with yourself, Roy, you give him so much grief because you secretly want him. So, so bad.”

Roy laughed – mostly because he _did_ actually have first-hand experience on how every single one of the four of his dearest friends kissed like, Wally included (it was a weird night). Not that he would say so to Dick, mostly because they always had and always would avoid talking about the complicated entanglements between the five of them. “You’re right, of course. I’m really sorry you had to find out this way.”

“No, you saved me a lot of heartbreak.” Dick smiled at him. Then he picked up the napkin and dabbed at his mouth, the humour leaving his eyes and softening them. He faked an exaggerated, girlish voice and said, “I really like you, Roy. Let’s do this again sometime.” Except there was something serious behind the levity, and Roy could hear it.

“Oh, you do? As in _like_ like me?” Roy played along, grinning. “Careful, darling. I’m the kind of guy your dad warns you about.” Dick laughed, and Roy’s smile grew tender. “…You got aquariums in Bludhaven?”

“This is a city by the docks, genius, what do you think?”

“Let’s go, next time.” He took Dick’s hand from across the table. “I love that look in your eyes that you get when you’re in those kinds of places. So full of wonder, like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen the world, like you’ve fallen in love with it.”

“…You know, Roy, you put up a front like you’re a vapid playboy, but you’re really practically Shakespeare at heart, aren’t you.” Dick smiled, amused. “I’d love that.”

“You always look at the world that way, though.” Roy smiled back. “Only you could find whatever it is about this city that you think is worth saving. …I wish I could see it.”

Dick turned his head to the side for a quiet moment, something nostalgic in his expression. Then he stood up, abruptly, without letting go of Roy’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “Get your uniform. Come with me.”

* * *

**then**

It was hard to name the feeling, at first. Roy stared long and hard at Dick’s sleeping face, barely inches away from his own, trying to figure it out.

It wasn’t love, though love was, of course, a big part of it. Had been for years, now; Roy hadn’t fallen so much as grown into it, the same time as he was growing _with_ Dick. And, anyway, who _wasn’t_ a little bit in love with Dick Grayson, Roy would have liked to know.

It wasn’t protectiveness – though God knew Roy felt that plenty around Dick, especially lately, when Roy saw him with his mask off more times than he had since their adolescent years and the wariness that had replaced the childlike wonder that used to be in Dick’s eyes was more pronounced than ever before.

And it wasn’t awe, though it was impossible not to be a little in awe of Dick, not just because of how brave and strong he was, but because – Roy still couldn’t believe it sometimes – he seemed to genuinely _like_ Roy, and that hadn’t changed over the years despite all the things that Roy had proven to be capable of.

He tried to compare it to the handful of times he’d come close to feeling the way that he did: pulling his bowstring taut, all of his focus on a single target, but only when he was practising alone, never during a fight; a lazy Sunday afternoon in the library of the old Queen estate when he had been younger, innocent, Ollie’s voice rising with every impassioned word, while he waved some book or the other around – _don’t you see, Speedy, don’t you see, it was never about darker skintones, it was about the diamonds, the oil, it was never about burning witches, it was about the women revolting, it’s never about prejudice alone, it’s always a means to an end, follow the greed, you’ll find what’s hiding under the mask of injustice, and it’ll be right next to a corporation and a dollar sign_ ; falling asleep beside his daughter while it rained outside.

He sighed, giving up. It was a nice feeling, and that would have to be enough for him for now. He pushed himself up, paused to press a kiss against Dick’s hair, and climbed out of bed, heading for Lian’s room. She had curled the blankets around herself so tightly that her little body was virtually indistinguishable from the pillows on her bed at first, making Roy smile. He tiptoed closer and peered at her face, saw that her eyelids were quivering ever so slightly – she was pretending to be asleep – grinning, he shouted, “Tickle monster!” and sent her into shrieks of laughter with his fingers on her sides.

Their noise would wake Dick up, and he’d pass the door, smiling to himself, head for the kitchen and make breakfast. Roy would spend hours coaxing Lian to let him brush her teeth and – if he was lucky enough for her to be in a cooperative mood – give her her bath, and then, eager to play with Uncle Dick, she would race for the kitchen while Roy made the bed. He’d take his time joining them, so much so that he would walk in on a conversation that was probably not meant for his ears.

“Please stay with us forever, Uncle Dick.”

“…Why would you want that, sweetheart?”

“Because Daddy’s never sad when you’re here.”

Roy would lean against the doorway and smile. Peace, he’d realise. The feeling was peace.

* * *

**now**

Roy climbed the last metal rung to the top of the silo after Dick, Dick grabbing him by his bracer when he slipped on the incline. “Okay?” Dick asked, laughing a little. “Here. This is it.”

Roy took advantage of the fact that Dick could balance on the thing better than he could, and slipped his arms around Dick’s waist from behind to “anchor” himself. “…What am I looking at?” he questioned, as Dick made himself comfortable in Roy’s arms, and leaned back against his chest. This far out into the forgotten, old docks, miles away from the city proper, the neon lights of Bludhaven that never seemed to dim were, for once, barely constellations on the distant horizon. “What is this, an abandoned silo? Wow, Wing. And they say romance is dead.”

“Oh, hush.”

Roy chuckled. “What’s it store, anyway?”

He could feel Dick shrug. “Hemp, I think. From the ships. Years ago.”

“…So if, hypothetically, I accidentally set off a flare arrow here, we could get high before we’re killed? Huh. Nice.”

Dick clicked his tongue, half-chiding, half-amused. “Morbid jokes about the traumatic events in your life, you really _have_ been hanging out with Jason.”

“I resent that.” Roy squeezed him. “Seriously, though. Why here?”

“You asked me why I think this city is worth saving.” He felt Dick tense slightly, his entire demeanour changing, his anger and frustration almost palpable. “This is the only part of Bludhaven, as I knew it the first time around, left. Can you believe that? This is all that’s left.” Roy felt him swallow. “When I first moved back I… the first thing I wanted to see again was the memorial. For 1013 Parkthorne Avenue, for… everyone who died back then because of—” He cut himself off; Roy almost didn’t want to know what Dick would have said, although, unfortunately, he had a pretty good guess. “But it was gone. Everything was gone. Like none of it had even happened.” He fell quiet. “This. This is all I have to remember them by.”

Roy felt suddenly voyeuristic, like he was intruding on something so private it was shameful.

“I come here, sometimes, to remind myself…” Dick sighed, a weariness in that one breath that made Roy hold him tighter. “It’s why I do it. Bludhaven is my responsibility.”

“Will you ever forgive yourself?” Roy asked, almost pleaded. Honestly, this wouldn’t have been his ideal for ending a perfect evening together. Dick had been happy, earlier, and Roy seemed to have asked for something that had only triggered a mood whiplash yet again.

Dick tilted his head up to meet Roy’s eyes, though his were hidden behind the white lenses of his mask—his _mask_ , Roy realised with a start. _Oh._

For someone who was supposed to have uncanny aim, he always seemed to miss the point, with Dick.

Years ago, when Roy had finally outgrown that weird mix of admiration and envy toward Dick that he and Wally had shared, he had wondered, sometimes. What that kind of pressure would do to a person. Roy wouldn’t know. There was a certain kind of freedom that came with always fucking everything up – no one tended to depend on you. Dick, though, a _lot_ of people depended on him. Even Bruce, Roy was sure Dick had to have been told from an early age. Robin was the light, the light, without him, the Dark Knight would…

He’d been _nine_. Masks, Roy thought. Masks.

“…No one else has been here. No one knows,” he whispered; a statement, not a question. _Why me,_ he wanted to ask, and couldn’t.

Dick twisted in Roy’s arms. As if he had read Roy’s mind, he lifted his hands to the side of his face – and slowly peeled his mask off. He didn’t even look around to make certain that they were alone first; the amount of trust in that single act should have sent Roy running – and every instinct in his body was indeed screaming at him, _when he comes to his senses about you, and he will come to his senses about you, when he leaves, it will destroy you, Roy Harper._

But Roy had always been an adrenaline junkie. Always loved the danger of it. He pulled Dick closer.

“I come here, sometimes,” Dick repeated; this time Roy heard it for what it was, a warning. _There are still scars buried in here,_ Dick was saying. _They still bleed._

“…Okay,” Roy said, and meant it. He loved the peace in him, yes. But it wasn’t all he loved. It never had been. “Can I,” a hesitant pause. “Can I come with you, next time?”

Dick’s eyes grew wide, and no wonder – it was the closest Roy had ever come to making future plans with, well, anyone. Dick smiled. “…Yeah.”

There was a gentle kind of stillness in the silence that lay between them for a moment after. Dick cleared his throat. “Wind’s changing,” he observed. “It’ll rain any day now.”

Roy hummed his agreement. “The cold should leave once the first spring shower hits.”

“…Change.” Dick smiled.

Roy shrugged, smiling back. “It’s not all bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of after-school stuff did Lian have going on when she was only in preschool, you ask? …I don’t know, either. The song at the beginning is What Wouldn’t I Do for That Man by Annette Hanshaw.
> 
> Kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscriptions, if you please? My Tumblr is anelderling.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for continuing to support this fic! Y’all have been so generous about it, I’m amazed. I hope it never starts to disappoint you.
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

“You’re sure this is the place?” Wally asked, scepticism written all over his features. Dick tapped at his wrist to double-check the coordinates that they had been sent, giving Wally a nod once he had glanced over the little holographic screen that popped up.

A few steps behind them, Roy was complaining to Donna, in mutters – _I always have to do Ollie’s dirty work for him, it’s always Roy, do this, Roy, do that, so fucking annoying, if it wasn’t for Mia and Connor and Dinah I would never have gotten in touch with him again, I mean, what the hell, I’m not his sidekick anymore_ – Dick caught himself straining to listen simply because he loved the sound of Roy’s voice (raspy enough to be deeply attractive without sounding forced), and shook himself out of it.

“It looks like it,” he said.

Granted, Oliver asking Roy (and, by extension, the rest of the team) to follow up on a lead that Henry had discovered about their mysterious necklace thief sponsor because they were near the location wasn’t exactly an ideal turn to what was supposed to have been a fun, de-stressing trip out to the San Francisco Bay Area with his friends after closing his last, rather intense case, but Dick would be lying if he said that he wasn’t grateful for the work. It was still hard for him not to feel any guilt about having time to waste.

“—And, anyway, the Littler Titans ought to be the ones managing things in and around their territory.” Roy was close enough to hear without making too much of an effort, now. “What a waste of good weather.”

“I don’t think it’s serious enough to warrant their involvement, Roy,” Garth answered calmly. He was half-distracted by the phone in his hands, showing it to Donna every now and again – “How do you…? Oh, I see, thank you,” – and almost walked into Dick, who smiled, amused.

Wally crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “You’re booking our rooms, aren’t you.”

Garth shrugged, unconcerned. “You always leave it for the last second, Wal—”

“Because I _can_!”

“—And I am _not_ sharing with Roy again,” Garth finished like he’d never been interrupted.

Sensing yet another pointless fight, Dick cut in hastily. “I’ll share with Roy.”

Wally gave him a melodramatic look of utter betrayal – the unquestioned system, since they’d been kids, had always been a single for Donna; Roy and Garth; Wally and Dick – and Dick sighed, partly fond, partly exasperated. “…Wal- _ly_ ,” he said under his breath for only his best friend to hear, dragging the last syllable out, Wally-and-Dick code for _come on_.

“So it’s like that, now, is it,” Wally said, more of a statement than a question. There was a resigned smile in there somewhere; like, _oh well, if that’s how it is, what can you do_. But he did give Roy a more calculating look than before, earning nothing but confusion in return, since Roy had only just finished the conversation he and Donna had been having in the background.

“This building?” Donna asked, sizing up the abandoned hospital, in front of them, a fact only made evident by the faded signboard that announced it as such, and not by the ruined shadow of its structure.

“This building,” Dick confirmed. Sacred Heart, Angel Island. “Okay, according to what Oliver told you, Roy, Henry followed the most credible paper trail he found, to here, which means someone paid someone else and one of those people could be in there. We go in, retrieve whoever, get out. Let Team Arrow handle the rest, it’s their case. Here, comms—” _Only you would have your uniform and your gadgets on a vacation, Dick, _said Donna, exasperated, “—In case we need to split up, though let’s avoid it if we can. This place looks like a safety hazard.”

“Or I could just—” Wally began, but Dick cut him off, having anticipated it.

“You’re not going in without backup.”

Wally blinked. “Why? It’s not exactly a war zone. I thought this was supposed to be nothing serious?”

“We’re not sure of that yet. Let’s not take any chances.”

“Oh, look. He’s Leader-man again.” Donna smirked. “Okay, come on, let’s get this over with.”

He waited for the others to enter first, like he usually did (it was easier to watch their backs that way), and Roy deliberately slowed down to fall in step with him. “What was that all about?” Roy whispered, nodding in Wally’s general direction. Dick smiled.

“Nothing, I just said I wanted to share a room with you this time.”

Roy’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under the baseball cap he’d taken to wearing with his uniform. “Oh, I kind of just took it for granted… I forgot we haven’t told… should we? Tell?”

“Don’t, let’s not make a big deal, they’ll figure it out, if they haven’t already…”

“No whispering, it’s rude,” Donna said, her voice loud and teasing, throwing a knowing glance at them over her shoulder.

They separated, exchanging sheepish looks.

* * *

**then**

No letters in the letter box, no e-mails on their new computer. Rare. Roy had shown up – even rarer. Dick decided not to look either gift horse in the mouth, and was quick to agree when Wally proposed a picnic or something since it was essentially a day off. They trooped out to the wild, open space behind their headquarters that no one seemed to have ever bothered trying to trim and tidy, a basket in Donna’s arms, a foldable plastic bench and a parasol under Dick’s, the radio with Garth, several of those mats woven out of thin bamboo with Roy and Wally.

It was a fun day, was supposed to be a fun day, but Dick felt the nagging little disturbance in the atmosphere, regardless. Something off. His eyes kept sliding towards Roy, half of his attention on what Donna was regaling him about, but still. Roy had a five o’ clock shadow now, an ear piercing, a sharp edge to his smile that caused a small adrenaline rush every time he directed it at Dick. Wally put the radio on, Eric Martin began to sing about how he was the one who wanted to be with whoever, Dick turned his attention to Roy again.

“Your voice sounds like his,” he blurted out; he’d interrupted Donna mid-sentence, but she didn’t seem to mind, gravitating toward the food on the bench that Garth was spreading out instead.

“Does it?” Roy hummed, noncommittal.

Garth pushed a sandwich against his lips before Dick could say anything further. “Try it…”

Dick bit off a piece. “Less salt,” was the verdict.

Roy sang _Wild World_ to his knees – wrong song – looked bored out of his mind.

“You guys remember Finlay?” Wally said, the song having triggered the memory, and Dick, Donna and Garth laughed with him.

Roy frowned, contemplative. “The one with the Old Georgia accent, dropped all his R’s, him?”

“Not him.”

Oh, Dick thought. Roy had been away from them too often. Too long.

Dick opened his mouth to say something then, find a common subject that Roy could contribute about as well – but Donna pulled him up to dance before he could. And he would never say no to Donna, so. For a little while, he forgot about Roy, somewhere in the spins and twirls and clapping for Donna.

Roy got off his mat. Stretched. “Well. If you guys are just lazing around today, I’m going to head back.”

He put his hat on, picked up his bow and his quiver, and walked away. Dick and Donna, frozen, exchanged a concerned look. Garth sighed and Wally clicked his tongue.

“Guys—”

“No.” Wally cut her off, before Donna could continue. “No feeling sorry for that jackass. It’s his own fault he’s out of the loop all the time, now, he’s the one who’s been playing hard to get this whole time, you can’t add someone to a group, Donna, it doesn’t work that way, they have to join in.”

Donna gave him a stern look. “Not everyone can be as extroverted as you are. Social interaction can be difficult.”

“Wal, be fair,” Dick agreed, his voice more placating than hers – but it was _him_ that Wally directed a hurt look at; for defending Roy, Dick assumed. Dick felt a flash of anger at them both. _You always make me choose. Maybe I don’t want to choose._ “Things have been… rough, for him,” he continued regardless.

Wally seemed incredulous. “Rough for _Harper_? Oh, come on! _I_ know rough. Garth knows rough. That ain’t it.”

Dick didn’t contradict him, didn’t want to be cruel, and Garth only looked away. “Don’t drag me into this.” But he did add, hesitantly: “Roy… seems to have built a wall around himself lately. Not to keep us out so much as to keep himself in. That’s all I have to say about it.”

The back-and-forth was pointless and had the potential to carry on all afternoon, so Dick chose to let his friends continue on while he hurried down the direction that Roy had gone in earlier. He caught up to him just as Roy was about to leave the lair, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “Roy,” he said, quiet and earnest, “You’re not losing us, you know. It’s all in your mind. Promise.”

Roy stared at him for a long time, something vulnerable in his eyes, but then it disappeared and he scoffed; nothing malicious, only amused. “What?”

Dick didn’t bother repeating himself.

“You guys take this whole gig way too seriously,” Roy continued, as if it would kill him to allow the silence to remain. “The Teen Titans aren’t going to last forever, you know. I, for one, have an actual life outside of all this. If you thought I was feeling left out, I wasn’t, I’d just rather go to band practice than hang around with you nerds. Not that I don’t love all of you, but, save your pity.” He was trying to joke about it, but his grin was strained. Dick didn’t know who he thought he was fooling.

“See you when I see you, Robbie,” he said, tipping his hat at Dick, and continued on his way. As though yanked up by an invisible puppet-string, Dick’s arm reached out. Feeling stupid, he put it back down. As if he could make Roy stay. As if anyone could.

Sometimes, Roy could be strangely elusive.

* * *

**now**

“Do your thing, human-detector,” Roy said, with a playful little bow at Garth, who rolled his eyes. Regardless, Garth closed them, standing still for a moment. He opened them again, shaking his head.

“It looks like we’re the only ones here.”

Dick frowned. Intuition was telling him that there was more to the place than what met the eye. “Let’s just check,” he suggested. For a second, he half-expected somebody to protest, but then he remembered what he loved most about working with his best friends – for all of their petty fights, they never, ever brought it with them onto the field, following his orders without question, functioning like a well-oiled machine.

He missed the Titans.

They turned a corner into a long hall with a row of rooms without doors on either side of it. Donna stopped abruptly, turning to Garth with a deep frown. “Do you feel that, too?”

“…Yeah,” Garth muttered, eyes narrowed. “At the end, I think.”

Dick and Wally exchanged a look. Roy pulled out an arrow and nocked it, holding his bow low, a precautionary measure.

They stepped forward.

It was a seamless transition, so seamless that Dick recoiled, wondering when it had snuck up on them; one second he’d blinked and they were in the hospital, then blinked again and…

“What the hell.”

They could still see the wall of the corridor that they had been walking through, but then it eased into the wall of a… cave? Dick could hear the sounds of nature, coming from somewhere in the darkness ahead of them, too – ripples, birds, the wind whispering through leaves. Dick reached up to turn on the night-vision lenses of his mask. They wouldn’t.

“…What the hell,” he repeated flatly.

Garth, who could see without trouble in low light, took his hand. In turn, Dick grabbed Wally’s, and on until they made a chain. A very awkward chain. “…Remember when we were thirteen, and this wasn’t so weird to do?” Wally said, chuckling.

“Hush,” Garth whispered. “ _Now_ I hear footsteps. One… two… no, three. One seems to be running.”

“The guilty one,” Roy deduced. “That’s our destination, then.”

“But the other ones are headed after that one, too.”

“…Great.”

“Lead on,” Dick said. He felt Garth nod once, short, and they stepped forward. Turned right. Walked on. Turned again. Garth stopped abruptly.

“Someone’s coming.”

Dick narrowed his eyes and tensed up, ready to fight if he had to.

Greenish light lit up the darkness all of a sudden and Dick could finally confirm that they really were in a cave. A Lantern was his first thought, but then two figures stepped out of the shadows, witchlight floating between them, a man and a woman, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

His mother’s voice in his head warned, _there’s nothing natural about a mortal soul coming in contact with the worlds beyond this one, my heart. Don’t listen to everything Mystique says, don’t ever dabble._

His fingers involuntarily twitched, itching to make a ward against evil. Zatanna noticed, and smiled.

“Well, if it isn’t the smaller Yoga Pants Club,” said John Constantine, with a crooked smile that did absolutely nothing to throw off the unsettling air that he always brought with him, at least Dick thought so, anyway.

“Zatanna,” Donna said, smiling, delighted. The women exchanged a hug and pleasantries. Dick wasn’t even aware that the two of them had ever met… but, then again, all of the women in their line of work seemed to know each other, somehow. He’d learned not to question it.

“Are you after it, too?” Zatanna asked, folding her arms.

Wally blinked. “It, what?”

“We’re here to follow up on a lead about,” Roy began, then caught himself and mumbled, “None of your business, actually…”

John had not taken his eyes off Dick, but what made it less uncomfortable, and more a source of second-hand embarrassment, was that he, apparently, thought that he was being subtle about it. Dick turned. “Mr. Unfairly Fit Swirly-Faced Vampire-Fighter, isn’t that right?” John asked, pointing at him.

“…John Constantine,” Dick acknowledged, half a mutter.

“I thought so.” A smile.

“John.” Zatanna managed to make lifting one sharp eyebrow menacing somehow. She returned her attention back to them. “ _It_. You know, the necklace. Currently in the possession of Star City Mayor Nathan Domini, not that that will continue to be the case for very long, considering recent events, I think. You didn’t wander in here by accident, Troia? I can get you out, if that’s—”

Donna shook her head. “No.”

“Green Arrow sent us,” Roy piped up. “Whoever paid for all those attempts on the necklace – or whoever _received_ the payments – could be in here.”

John blinked. “Why’s Oliver helping…”

“A fascist? Because he made a deal with Domini – keep him from losing face in the eyes of the entire nation, in exchange for not evicting an entire tent city.” Roy shrugged, and John nodded in understanding.

“Sounds like him. Right, you’d best omit that _could be_ , then. She’s in here, alright.”

“She?” Dick asked.

John’s smile became too… deliberately _smile-y_ when he directed it at him again; Dick mentally sighed. “Whoever’s after your necklace, of course.”

In a calm voice, Dick said, “Mr. Constantine, I realise that the last time we met I was half-naked and practically in bondage, but – one, I’m spoken for – two, I’m pretty sure _you’re_ spoken for, and three, I think you’re old enough to be my father, so maybe those eyeballs should go back into their sockets?”

Roy choked, Zatanna burst out laughing, and John cringed. “…Cheers,” he muttered sarcastically.

* * *

**then**

Seattle was the veritable nucleus of the country’s music scene – LA was faking it, Dick decided. There were half a dozen gigs by fresh young bands booked at half a dozen venues on the same night. He hadn’t been trained by the World’s Greatest Detective for nothing, though. He looked and looked until he found it: the one at the Pines, a stubborn little place with broken records on the walls, that had managed to hang on in the age of DJs over live bands and still stayed relevant somehow.

Vocalist has laryngitis, said one of the patrons from amongst the crowd that had filled up the whole area between the bar and the small stage. The other kid’s singing instead, but that was fine, because tonight, they would only be playing covers. Dick nodded, faking sympathy like he cared just as much about the vocalist not performing – but he surreptitiously craned his neck to see over the other heads at this news.

An echoing guitar riff. Another. A longer one. “Oh, my God…” a familiar, raspy voice breathed into the mic, practically orgasmic, like the original song, and then the stage lights lit up Great Frog with _Welcome to the Jungle_.

Roy looked at home on centre stage. Of course he would. He was wearing a white muscle shirt, the kind with the frayed sleeves, black ripped jeans, and his black-and-silver pendant that never left his neck swinging on his chest with every single sinuous movement around the mic though he never took it off its stand. Dick was hardly conscious of the fact that he was stepping closer to the stage, pushing through the crowd, until he was close enough to see the kohl lining Roy’s eyes.

His voice, as always, was amazing; Dick could never sing as loud without going off-key. The crowd was clearly just as mesmerised as he was by this magnetic young man singing _knees, knees,_ on his actual knees. Who? Dick heard them ask each other. Roy Harper, Roy Harper, he’s good, isn’t he?

During the guitar solo with the moaning and groaning, that always made Dick hastily change the song on the radio, scandalised, Roy actually did make out with the lead guitarist, earning ecstatic shouting and loud whistles. Dick wanted to look away, he really did. But Roy had always been absolutely beautiful, absolutely captivating when owning his sexuality, in a way that Dick was and always had been for the most part too awkward about that kind of thing to be. So while watching the scene (Roy with someone else, his mind kept emphasising) was a masochistic pleasure more than anything else, he could sympathise with the young man on the guitar when he slipped and missed a note, though. Roy’s kisses tended to do that.

As the song ended and the lights behind the crowd dimmed, replaced by more lights onstage, Roy finally caught him standing there, in the front row, right at the edge of the platform.

And of course he kept his eyes nowhere else for the rest of the night.

Now every song felt like it was being sung _at him_ – and Dick couldn’t tell if the heat he felt was from the crowd, hemming him in, or from his own cheeks. Close to the end of the set, the band member who’d been at the keyboard shifted to the neglected Steinway upright behind him and began to play the sweet melody at the start of _Making Love (Out of Nothing At All)_. Dick thought it couldn’t get worse. Roy made it worse. He dropped down to his haunches, the mic finally in his grip instead of on its stand, one of his vulpine chip-toothed grins directed right at Dick, even as he sang.

They were at eye level. People were staring. Dick couldn’t decide whether he ought to pull him down for a kiss or punch him in the face.

 _I know just where to touch you,_ Roy sang, and poked Dick on the nose with a finger to prove his point. _I know when to pull you closer._ He hugged him. _I know when to let you loose._ He stood up to finish the rest of the song, though people were still looking at Dick with curious eyes. Dick wanted to laugh. At least there was no making out during _this_ guitar solo.

At last, at long last, everything wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, though not necessarily thin. While his band-mates headed backstage, Roy ignored their beckoning, and jumped off the stage, heading straight for Dick. “Hello, stranger,” he smiled crookedly. The light in his eyes was mesmerising.

Dick felt like he had never fully understood the meaning of the word _breathtaking_ up until that moment.

“…I was in town. I thought I’d come see.”

“Really? Aw, that’s flattering.” Roy grinned. “Can you stay for a— well, not a drink, obviously, but can you stay?”

Dick smiled. “Just for tonight.”

“Okay, give me a min—”

Before he could finish that sentence, a tall, bearded man sauntered up to them. Dick thought it was Oliver, for a split second, surprised, but the man was clearly older – he had salt-and-pepper hair. “I told you boys. You have more potential without Corey,” he said.

Roy arched an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “For the last time, we are _not_ firing him. We’re not firing anyone, we’re friends. It’s not that kind of a band. Go to LA if you want those. Oh, wait, that’s where you washed up.”

The man only chuckled indulgently. He turned, and sized Dick up with a look that made him deeply uncomfortable. But then again, a lot of the world looked at him in ways that made him deeply uncomfortable, now. It was like he’d forfeited his right to comfort the second he’d turned eighteen, he thought, shifting from one foot to the other on the outside but seething with violence on the inside. Roy knew trouble when he saw it. He slung an arm around Dick’s shoulders pointedly. The man turned away, albeit smugly.

“Are you sure you won’t accept my offer? Our label is always looking for talent like yours. You have an attitude. I like that.”

“For the millionth time, _no_. I won’t become a cog in your capitalist murder machine. It’s not money and fame we’re doing this for and we won’t allow you to turn something we love to do into a profit-spinning—”

Roy went vehemently on, about how, anyway, they didn’t believe in copyright, and what was next – promoting brand names with every piece of clothing that they wore, and making people who couldn’t afford them feel somehow lesser for it? What about privacy? Would he still be allowed to write songs that were political whether or not they sold? The man tried to talk about benefits, to which Roy retorted that he used to be heir to a billion-dollar fortune, once, and understood what having wealth meant, thank you very much. The man accepted defeat and finally walked away.

The handsome Asian guitarist of earlier making-out fame emerged, from backstage, shaking his head. “I usually just say _we won’t sell out_ , but that was better.” Roy grinned. They kissed. Dick was introduced and marvelled over (“Roy, he’s so cute?”) and then jostled along with Roy and his friends from the bar to the green room to the bar again. Roy couldn’t seem to spare a single moment for him after all, but he didn’t once look sad all night, and that consoled Dick.

While Roy was busy politely turning down a younger girl who was asking for an autograph in a less-than-appropriate place, Dick slipped off his bench with the drink he had been nursing, pouring it into a potted plant by the exit. Impulsively, he paused. Turned. And stretched an arm out in Roy’s direction.

Roy couldn’t see, of course.

Dick shook his head, smiling ruefully to and about himself as he stepped outside.

* * *

**now**

“So there _is_ magic involved, then? That’s why the two of you are caught up in this as well?” Garth asked.

Zatanna nodded solemnly. “If you think we’re still in America, think again. This cave travels. Or, the magic that founded it does, I’m not sure, this is… old magic. Older than Morgana – no, older than Circe – than Hecate, than—”

“Than me,” John said with a pointed look at Dick. “How old do you think I am, any road?”

The witchlight above Zatanna’s head flew down, and touched his face, making him yelp. She continued. “It’s tribal magic. They have no documentation for it. It could have existed for as long as time has.”

“Which is very fascinating,” Roy cut in, “But remind me what this has to do with the thing we’re supposed to be investigating, again?”

“Well, lad, let’s just say your necklace had a nasty little stowaway clung onto it when your friends brought it into the country.” John paused to light up a cigarette. “And it doesn’t seem to speak the language. I’ve tried. Don’t even know its name, that’s the real hiccup. Spreading, too – costing me overtime. It uses the necklace as a, what’s it, a power source.”

“A… demon?” Dick asked, half-disbelieving.

“Not sure they’d call it that there, mate, but yeah. Something wicked this way came.”

“We have to find whoever wants it, they’re the only ones who would know – or know someone who knows – how to stop it,” Zatanna explained.

They rounded the corner into a wide, cavernous space, stalactites pointed menacingly down at them. “It does account for why someone would want it,” said Donna.

Dick shook his head. “Except it doesn’t. A magical artefact, I get, but who’d want a demon?”

John hummed. “You’d be surprised.”

“Yes, but that kind of an exchange always involves losing something, unless someone is so desperate, so out of options—”

“…You’re Rom,” said Zatanna, surprised.

Dick didn’t confirm or deny it.

At the end of the open space they had walked across, was a row of small, hollow tunnels. “We split up,” said Donna. “One magic user per team – that way, no one is in danger. Nightwing, what do you say?”

“Wait.” Dick tapped his comm. No feedback. John gave him a look of understanding.

“Technology goes bonkers in here. Powerful magic will do that, oftentimes.”

A spike of anxiety shot up Dick’s heart – he didn’t want his friends separate from him with no way to be in contact. But Donna was right, there was no other option. “We split up,” he conceded. “Donna and Garth know the basics of the magical arts, so the three of us will team up to even things out. That leaves Flash and… uh, Constantine; Arsenal and Zatanna.” _Roy, baby, be careful._ “Let’s go.”

They nodded. Then they each picked a tunnel, and stepped forward.

* * *

**then**

As far as his nightmares went, it wasn’t the most frequent. Dick could count more nights when all he could see was Jason, letting go of his hand and falling, over and over again. On the crueller nights he saw Bruce, except that he wasn’t himself, he was Tim, was Robin, circling Bruce’s body again and again whispering that he wasn’t dead, he wasn’t.

It wasn’t the most frequent. But it was the worst.

 _Roy, don’t do this,_ Dick pleaded. _Don’t shut us out. Let us help you._

Don’t leave me, he thought, desperation almost choking him but refusing to let him scream it.

Suspended in the blank darkness, Roy would always look at him with the same cold eyes. _Why didn’t you save her?_ – or worse, sometimes: _Why didn’t you save me?_

 _Roy!_ This time, he could scream it. Dick tried to run forward before Roy could dissolve into the nothingness behind him, but Bruce’s cape was too heavy, it pulled him down. He stretched out his arm, but the distance between them only grew wider and wider, he shrugged off his cape, he jumped. He grabbed Roy’s hand. Roy gave him an empty smile. He fell – tearing Roy’s arm right off along with him…

Gasping, Dick sat up in bed, disoriented and struggling to breathe. He looked around himself wildly, but of course, there was no one there. His fault. He’d alienated Tim, and look what happened to Jason and – and Bruce, Bruce was gone…

Pulling his knees to his chest, he buried his head in his lap and let the tears fall freely while Damian wasn’t around to see, and all he could think about was if Bruce would have been ashamed of this, this weakness while he was supposed to be making him proud, every goddamn night, he was sick of the tears. The silence and the air were oppressive and Dick all but clambered out of the sheets, sweeping his keys off his bedside table and pulling his boots and the first jacket he could find on.

He didn’t go to the cave, he headed for the garage, for that stupid fancy sports-car that Bruce had bought when Dick had first arrived and Bruce had had no idea what to do with the kid except buy stuff that he’d thought would impress him, apparently. Dick laughed so he wouldn’t cry, remembering his first videogame console and his first personal phone (“No, you really don’t have to share,”) and his first Italian shoes. Why, _why_ did Batman get to live on when Dick couldn’t even lay Bruce to rest in his own fucking mind – when there was a gaping hole where Bruce had been that none of them, mourning Batman, would understand, they never had, they never would?

He wasn’t sure when he’d got into the driver’s seat or when he’d revved up the engine and driven out into the night, but once he’d started, he didn’t stop. The problem was where to _go_. Usually it was Roy’s place – usually it was Roy’s arms and his cooking and Lian fast asleep on Dick’s lap after insisting that she could, she _could_ stay up for the movie, just watch, Uncle Dick. The tears were blurring his vision and he was pretty sure he’d just said _Roy_ under his breath aloud like it would make Roy appear out of thin air, and there _had_ been a time, hadn’t there, when Roy really always did come running, ready to catch him if he called.

It hit him, then, that he’d lost his shelter. Like an awful truth that had been hovering over his heart and had only just chosen to sink in: Roy was gone.

Stopping didn’t seem so important anymore. What was the point? He was approaching the highway. Did the brakes matter, really?

A sharp vibration from somewhere inside of his pocket. He jumped. Stepped on the brakes hard, flinging himself forward and causing the driver of the car he’d almost crashed into to swear at him loudly. Shaking uncontrollably, heart hammering in his chest from what he’d almost allowed himself to do, he fished his phone out, and stared, half-uncomprehending, at the name on the screen. Reality hit hard. Damian.

“Finally. Where are you? It’s time for patrol. You weren’t in your room, you’re so negligent, I—”

“…I’m sorry,” Dick whispered, voice hoarse; he was apologising for something else entirely, but Damian didn’t have to know that. Dick cleared his throat. Composed himself. “I’m almost home, kid, hold on.”

* * *

**now**

“I can’t hear a thing,” Garth said, frowning deeply. Donna had summoned light for a while, but Dick had cautioned her to save her strength in case they met something unfriendly, so they’d had to go back to their hand-holding again, trusting Garth to take the lead.

Donna squeezed Dick’s hand. “…Is it just me, or is the ground beneath us…?”

“Moving? I thought so, too,” Dick muttered.

“Great vacation, guys. I never regret coming up to see you,” said Garth, dryly.

“Blame Harper.”

“That’s not fair,” Dick answered, keeping his voice mild. “If whatever’s in that necklace really is spreading like Constantine said, then it would have been our duty to help anyway.”

“Listen to you, defending Roy.” Donna laughed, teasing and delighted.

Dick said nothing, though his heart did a little pirouette.

“Wait.” Garth stopped abruptly. “This way.” He ran, so they rushed to keep pace, dodging stalagmites and corner walls until Garth shouted, “She’s over—”

He never got to finish – the ground literally swallowed them up. Dick had a moment through the panic to watch the light from the hole that had appeared beneath them light up a distinct female figure about a head or so shorter than him, then had no choice but to give in to gravity.

He tucked and rolled, landing gracefully on his feet in a kneeling bow; Garth flailed for a second but Donna caught him. (Bridal-style.) “You too, huh,” Wally’s voice said from somewhere behind them.

They were in the hospital corridor again, the three of them and Wally and John Constantine. “Tricky one, that,” said John, puffing on his cigarette, casual as you please. “Wonder if she did it, or the cave did. Doesn’t give you a lot of time to defend yourself either way, does it?”

“Where’s—” _Arsenal,_ Dick had almost blurted out. “Zatanna?”

“’Bout to get the same treatment as us any time now, I expect,” John answered.

Donna placed a hand on Dick’s arm and whispered, “She’s the greatest sorcerer this generation has seen. He’ll be safe.”

They waited. Fifteen minutes. Half an hour. An hour. Two.

“…Nightwing,” Wally began, “I could—”

“No.” Dick cut him off, and he couldn’t manage to keep the slight, anxious tremble out of his voice in time. “We’d risk losi—we’d risk you getting lost, as well.”

Donna had taken to pacing the hallway restlessly. Garth turned to John and said, almost accusing, “Can’t you do something?”

“You sure you want me to?” John raised an eyebrow. “I make things worse, you know. Sort of my forte.”

Dick felt like he’d had his eyes glued to the ceiling all of his life. He’d stopped breathing an hour ago. There was a bizarre urge to stretch his arm up nagging at his muscles… _I can’t,_ he thought, stubbornly. _I can’t lose him again._

Garth had given up, and sat down on the ground, his hands folded like he was praying, his chin resting on them. Wally was tapping his foot restlessly, the only sound in the hallway besides John occasionally blowing smoke out aggressively. Dick took all of this in out of his peripheral vision, his eyes still turned skyward, his back ramrod straight against the wall he leaned on. _I can’t._

“Fuck this, I’m going—”

Wally didn’t get to finish his sentence. The ceiling finally dissolved, into a hollow made of wisps of shadow, Dick’s eyes grew wide, Zatanna floated down gracefully, Roy by her side. Dick took a step forward but caught himself in time, all of his iron restraint focused on _not_ running into Roy’s arms like he wanted to. Donna did, though. “Oh, thank the gods!” She beamed.

“I’m okay,” Roy said, though his eyes were on Dick, not Donna. Dick felt unsteady.

“Arsenal, what you said…”

Roy gave Zatanna a grave nod. “That girl,” he said, for everyone to hear, “While you were fighting her, I saw her ink. On her shoulder?” He turned to Dick again. “Remember when I said I met the Laweian princess once?”

Dick didn’t trust himself to speak, so he only nodded.

“I know that mark,” Roy continued. “That girl’s a part of the princess’ personal guard.”

A pregnant pause.

“A traitor?” Zatanna said, a finger under her chin, contemplative. “Or an inside job? …Either way, _why_?”

Dick couldn’t stand it any longer. He interrupted. “You lost her?”

“Unfortunately,” said Roy.

“Then that’s that. If we stay, something might happen again. Let’s retreat for now, investigate further somewhere safe.” _Please, let’s just go to our hotel._

“I hate to agree with _La Belle Dame Sans Merci_ but he’s right,” John agreed. “Now that we’ve gone and forfeited that _we come in peace_ card, that magic might just get a tad more… malicious, don’t you think, Zee?”

Zatanna clicked her tongue. “Damn it.” She crossed her arms, annoyed. “Fine. Retreat. Regroup.”

John took this as a _let’s go_ , and slipped his lighter back inside the front pocket of his trench-coat. He gave Roy a pat on the shoulder. “Tell Ollie to keep me in the loop, would you?” Then, with a sideways glance at Dick, he muttered, half-worried, “…And, uh, you might want to calm your sweetheart down, there.”

Dick didn’t even mind the words. Roy’s concerned look was all he could see. His heart hurt. He could hardly wait for Zatanna to ask, “Where to?” and Donna to give her an address, for Zatanna to open a portal to— when Roy stepped closer, his fingers wrapped around Roy’s arm tight as a vice, half of his mind convinced that if he let go, Roy would disappear.

“Straight to each of your rooms, you’re welcome.” Zatanna smiled. Donna stepped through first, then Garth and Wally.

“…Seriously, Dick, I’m okay,” Roy whispered. Dick ignored him, still holding tight when their turn came.

He didn’t wait for the portal behind them to fully close. He didn’t even pause to see what their room looked like. Roy opened his mouth to say something, and Dick couldn’t stand it anymore, he shut him up with his own, pushing him against the wall, kissing him like if he stopped, they would both die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new crowning achievement of my life is the sentence, “said Garth dryly”, my dudes. Do please take the time to leave kudos, bookmark, subscribe, or comment if you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> I’m on Tumblr as anelderling, hint hint.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s here! Trigger warnings for discussions of rape, abusive behaviour, and sexual harassment. Nothing is in detail, but if that stuff is still difficult for you to read, please take care of yourselves while reading it, alright, darlings?
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

As if to calm him down, Roy’s prosthetic hand curled around Dick’s waist, firm, while his good hand held Dick by the back of his neck with gentle strength. _Easy, easy,_ Roy’s lips seemed to say, tender where Dick’s had been as good as frantic. Their first kiss in years, and Dick was too shaken to even appreciate it properly.

But Roy, of course, Roy was patient with him, coaxing, and soothing, with his lips and his tongue, until Dick had no choice but to allow it all to soften, allow himself to melt in Roy’s arms, and let him take the lead. A thousand, thousand times they had done this. And the moment still felt like an epiphany. Like coming home.

“…I missed you,” Roy whispered against his lips, when they parted by the slightest inch. Counting every freckle on his face, Dick wondered if _he_ felt like separating completely would hurt worse than dying, too.

Dick pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. “I can’t believe… I was stupid enough to think that I would ever be okay with losing you again.” He slid his hand up Roy’s chest, and – hit by the memory of the pain of it – reflexively clenched his fingers, around a fistful of Roy’s undershirt. “I _lost_ you,” he hissed. “Two. Whole. Years, Roy. I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. And here you are, and I haven’t been treating it like the miracle that it is.”

Cautiously, Roy reached up, and eased his mask off, with gentle hands. Dick averted his uncovered eyes, overwhelmed. “You were – gone, and I had… wished you all the happiness in the world and then given you up. I’d given up, Roy. Do you understand? You’ve always, you’ve always been so elusive, so damn hard to keep, but this time, it was like – like you had _died_ with Lian. I lost you. I really lost you.”

“Shit.” Roy’s hold on him turned almost fierce. “If I had known— damn it, Dick, we shouldn’t have split up like that, I didn’t know it would trigger— shit. I’m sorry, baby. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dick pressed closer to him, wrapping his arms around his neck, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Dick,” Roy whispered, cautious, “Did you, um, did you just kiss me because…”

Dick laughed, humourless, under his breath. Roy gently pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to force yourself to—”

“God, you’re doing it again.” Dick shook his head, smiling bitterly. “I don’t know how to react, to this, Roy.”

Roy winced. “…Listen, Dick…” He ran a hand through his hair, in a half-agitated gesture. “I know, I know I got issues, okay? I’m the worst possible person to date you. I know that. I find it hard to believe that people care about me, I always have. It’s easier for me to think of everything and everyone as… temporary. Expect the worst and people never disappoint.” He took in a breath. “But I love you, so, so much, and I-I know we’re going to have to work on making that seem less one-sided to my mind, but I can’t help— I can’t stop telling you and showing you how much—”

“I know, my treasure.” Dick let out a breath like a half-hearted laugh. He stepped closer, and cupped Roy’s cheek. “I know you. I may not always understand why you need what you need, but I understand _you_. That’s not what scares— God, at the risk of sounding like a cliché, it’s not you. It’s me.” He breathed in, steadying himself. “Roy, can you… sit down?”

Roy gave him a look that was torn between confusion and concern, but at whatever he saw in Dick’s eyes, he nodded, and moved to the bed, sitting down, on the edge. Dick paced, restless, in front of him.

“…It was my fault,” he whispered. “You guys tried to warn me. That I had too much on my plate. With the Titans, and the force, and Gotham, and Bludhaven. I should have listened to you.” He swallowed, hard. “I was careless. I got shot. And then I didn’t have the time— I didn’t _allow_ myself the time to let it heal. Like an idiot.” His fists involuntarily clenched and unclenched, and he had to take a moment to calm himself down. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean – Blockbuster was a genius, I knew that. Why would he _not_ make the connection between wounded Officer Grayson and wounded Nightwing?”

“Are you saying…”

Dick nodded. “He figured it out. And he used it. Apparently— apparently I had killed his mother. Her heart failed in a traffic accident, caused by me.” He should have been paying attention, Dick thought; and, hard as it was, he shoved the thought aside. No. He was _not_ going down that road again. _You’re not Superman,_ he told himself firmly. “What I’m saying is, he had… motive. He was out for blood. Not my blood, oh no. That would have been too kind.” He laughed bitterly. “No. He went after all of the people that Dick Grayson cared about instead.”

“The fires,” Roy said, eyes widening in realisation. “Your apartment building? _And_ Haly’s? That was…”

 _Me,_ Dick thought and didn’t say. “Blockbuster,” he confirmed instead, with a short, curt nod.

“…Jesus Christ, Dick.”

Dick swallowed. “Thirty-five people dead. Thirty-five people I _knew_ , Roy. Friends. Family. Yoska— Yoska taught me how to speak my own language, for crying out loud, do you understand? My mother was always focused on teaching me how to _adapt_ because so much of Europe hates us, because it can mean the difference between life and death over there. She said I was lucky, I had lighter skin, I was more… racially ambiguous, so she drilled language after language into me from… as young an age as I can remember. I was never to speak anything but the dominant language in whatever country we were in, and I was taught to always let the other person assume where I’m from, and then pretend accordingly. I had it luckier, she said – I didn’t have to change my name to suit every place we went to, the way she did – I just had to say my father was American. Do you understand, Roy? All those languages, and none of them mine. Until Yoska came along. And he… he died.”

It wasn’t until he caught Roy’s hand make a reflexive twitch, like he wanted some kind of weapon in it, that Dick realised how much anger had been in his voice. He laughed, without humour. “I snapped. Like, when the Joker taunted me about Jason, remember that? Yeah, _that_ kind of snapped.”

“…So you really did kill him,” Roy whispered. There was no judgment in his voice, only acceptance. Not for the first time, Dick remembered that Roy had blood on his hands, too. Possibly, more than Dick did. It was hard to imagine compassionate, easygoing Roy looking another life in the eye and letting an arrow with a broadhead fly anyway.

“…There was this girl.” Dick paused, and took in a shaking breath. His hands involuntarily came up, to wrap around himself. “Tarantula. Catalina Flores. A young vigilante, operating in Bludhaven at the same time as I was. I had thought that I could show her the ropes, at first, but then she went over to Blockbuster’s side instead. Something must have happened, I don’t know. I never asked. A-Anyway, I…” He had to stop, just to remind himself to breathe. “I had Blockbuster… cornered, and she was there, all of a sudden. Holding a gun. Blockbuster, he had been saying— God, you have to understand, Blockbuster had been threatening to use my secret identity to find out _theirs_. Tim’s. Barbara’s. _Bruce’s_. If… if something ever happened to Bruce because of me… you have to understand, Roy, Cat— she was saying, I just had to get out of her way, and it would all – it would all be alright. I just had to _get out of her way_.” He could feel himself trembling. “So I did. I let her shoot him.”

Roy reached for his hand, and pulled him down onto the bed with him, holding Dick close, like he could stop him from shaking. “Dick, I… had no idea,” he said, concern in his voice. “All of that – and you handled it on your own? I wish you’d told us.”

Dick let his head rest on Roy’s chest for a while, savouring the gentle fingers running through his hair, the last few moments where Roy was pitying a fellow fighter who had been in a bad war, before he had to reveal the truth. Donna’s voice in his mind – _Courage, not strength._ He took in a deep breath and pulled away from Roy, placing his hands on his lap and looking nowhere else. “That’s not all,” he whispered.

“Hey.” Roy ducked his head and gave him a gentle smile. “It can’t be any worse than that, right?”

Dick couldn’t help himself, he laughed. It visibly startled Roy, and Dick had to take a moment to compose himself. “After,” he began, “I… I’m not sure, actually, I went into shock, or— or, I had like a panic attack, or something. I remember… that the only thing I could think about was Bruce, and that I’d failed him…? Clancy… says I was near-catatonic. I don’t know. My, my point is, I was in no… condition… to, to make any kind of conscious decision, do you see what I’m…” He closed his eyes, overwhelmed. “I could barely breathe, let alone… I wasn’t… in a state of mind… where I could… could consent.”

He didn’t dare meet Roy’s eyes, although he heard him take in a sharp breath. “…Dick,” Roy said, and his voice was shaking like he wanted Dick to contradict him, “Are you… are you saying…”

Dick swallowed hard, trying and failing to slow the memories down. “She followed me, outside. Can’t even remember how I got outside. It was raining. She— she pushed me down. I said, _don’t touch me._ I was pretty out of it, but I _know_ what I said. I did say it. I know I did.”

Roy’s hand reached out and grabbed his – desperate, almost – like he was anchoring himself, like he would have fallen if Dick’s wrist hadn’t been there for him to steady himself with. Dick was grateful for the touch. The whole situation had started to feel just a little bit surreal, as if he was waking up from a dream that everyone else was still stuck inside of. And this was a _really_ bad time to dissociate. “There was so much red, right here,” he said, musing almost, pointing vaguely at the bright blue stripe on his uniform, where she’d held him down and simultaneously braced herself using her fingers. He laughed under his breath. “I remember thinking… robin red-breast. Ha.”

“…Blood?” Roy ventured, his voice still tremulous, like he was afraid to ask it.

Dick shook his head. “Lipstick.”

Roy’s hand jerked away, like it had been burned. Now there was nothing to stop the haziness from creeping in. Dick felt like he was speaking from a thousand miles away. “I… think I threw up, after. I felt weak. So she took me with her to some hotel. And she… again.” He could hear how monotone he sounded, and he couldn’t find the will to care. “And again. And again. She kept me isolated from everyone else, so, I mean, there was plenty of opportunity. And what was my excuse all those other times…? I was near-catatonic the first time, sure – but after that? She was a woman, miles from my weight category, not to mention I had more training and experience than she did. I could have pushed her off. Right?”

Vaguely, he registered the fact that Roy had gotten off the bed and was kneeling in front of him. There was something wrong with Roy’s expression, Dick thought, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Dick, are you… still talking to me?”

“I’m alright.” Dick smiled, conscious still that it was very important to reassure Roy. “I’ll be fine until the crash. Then I’m probably going to start crying. Or hyperventilating. Fair warning.”

Roy reached a hand up and cupped his cheek. Dick closed his eyes, wishing that he could feel it as more than the ghost of a touch. “She kept telling me, that I couldn’t go back home, that they wouldn’t take me back – I was a killer now. And, I mean, was she wrong? Look at how Bruce treats Jason. Poor Jason.” He hummed. “We’re more alike than he thinks, you know. I’d tell him, but he’s a brat, so, no.”

Roy said nothing. Dick thought he could feel his hand tighten, but he couldn’t be sure. “I’m not sure how long we were on the run, but one night she… she got me drunk. And you know what my tolerance is like.” He swallowed. “She convinced me to marry her. We got as far as the register, too. But then the whole thing with Steph happened and we had to go help out in Gotham.”

“… _We_?” Roy repeated, incredulous. Dick laughed again.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought Bruce could use the help. I was compromised, alright, sue me.” He shook his head. “I think Tim figured out something was going on – I almost cried like a baby, when I thought something had happened to him. You should have seen the look on his face. He doesn’t think I’m—” _Fallible,_ he thought, but it sounded arrogant, so he didn’t say it. “None of them do.”

Roy placed both of his hands on top of Dick’s. Gently, calmly, he said, “Dick, can you tell me what colour the walls are, baby?”

“Lavender…”

“Yeah, that’s right. How about the carpet, precious?”

“White.”

“Good, that’s good. And what do you think my new shampoo smells like?”

Dick leaned in close to his hair. “…Lemongrass…” He could feel himself coming back down, and he smiled vaguely. “What, did you have to do this a lot with Jason or something?” He could finally tell what was wrong with Roy’s face, anyway. Tracing a hand down the tear-tracks, he mumbled half-heartedly, “For me? You shouldn’t have.”

Roy took his hand and kissed the back of it with so much tenderness that Dick swore he could _feel_ it. “I… I wish I had… Dick, I should have been there for you when—”

“You _were_ , Roy.” Dick let out a sound caught between a startled laugh and a whimper. “You still don’t see it, do you? You don’t understand.” He squeezed Roy’s hand. “Clancy says that I should call it what it is, what Cat— what she did to me. Clancy says I should, should call it…” But he couldn’t get past the _R_ sound as usual, that vile word catching in his throat and all but choking him. He shook his head violently. “But I can’t. I can’t, because— because if that counts—” his voice broke, and it all came crashing down, like a tidal wave against the defenceless shore, hot tears welling up in his eyes. He yanked his hand away from Roy’s to cover his mouth. “If that counts… it wasn’t… the first time. Oh, God, Roy, it was _so far_ from the first time…” He broke down crying, and Roy returned to his side to hold him and whisper soothing words that did nothing.

“Clancy actually had to _ask_ me, Roy, she had to _ask_. _You know that sex and sexual attraction are supposed to feel good, right?_ Because no, I _didn’t_ fucking know. I don’t usually get a say in it, when people kiss me or touch me or say things about my body, okay? Not in a long, long time. Not since Kory— I loved her. I did. But…” He broke off into a humourless laugh. “She’s a woman who knows what she wants, and isn’t afraid to make it happen, you know? I’m not blaming her for anything, please understand that I would do it all again in a heartbeat – Kory saved me from myself…” He swallowed. “But I— I felt a lot of pressure, to do things— like moving in with her when I wasn’t ready, for instance— o-or, or even— getting into the relationship in the first place.” Guilt assaulted him for Kory’s sake, and he hurried to clarify. “I know that I was in a dark place, and I kind of… I _needed_ to be forced into it, I understand that…”

“…Dick…”

“And Barbara – Barbara.” Dick shook his head and laughed wryly. “I think I loved her most because half the time it felt like she was _looking_ for reasons not to be with me. She… sees all of my flaws, which means… I usually had to put in a lot of effort. And I’m not – I’m not claiming that I was a saint in that relationship, because I wasn’t. What I’m trying to say is…” He struggled to find the right words. “That – that’s the kind of relationship that I’m used to, Roy. One that… takes a lot of effort. One, where I give people what they want…” His voice grew quiet, “…O-Or people… take… what they want from me…”

He reached for Roy’s hand. “But with you… it’s different. It’s just _so_ different. You don’t ask for anything even if sometimes you probably _should_. You make it clear, over and over again, that I have a choice in this, that I never have to do anything that I don’t want. I don’t think you understand— Roy, I don’t think you understand what you give me.” He smiled around the lump in his throat. “You’re the first relationship I’ve had where the worst thing I can say about it is that sometimes I worry about _you_ , not about what I may or may not have said or done to you that I completely missed because I usually have a million things on my plate all at the same time.” A humourless laugh. “I never have to stress out about this between us. To the point where I’m stressing out about _not_ stressing out.”

“That’s just what a relationship _is_ , Dickie-bird.” Roy visibly swallowed. “That’s how it’s _supposed_ to be.”

Dick laughed wryly. “It makes me so… mad, when you say things like that. Not at you. Just at… everything that happened to me.” He sniffed and deliberately wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I’m not… I know I’m not blameless. I mean, you had Mirage on your team, you know… what I did—”

“He wasn’t you,” Roy cut in. “He wasn’t. There was no proof he was you. I don’t believe it, I never did.”

Dick gave him a brief, half-hearted smile. “On this earth, then. You know I slept with Barbara the night before Kory and I were supposed to get married?”

“You never wanted to marry Kory.” Roy caught the look in his eyes and still refused to back down. “What? You didn’t. I never bought that, either. Didn’t exactly keep it a secret, did I.”

“My point, Roy.” Dick shook his head, giving up. “I know I’m not blameless. But… I don’t know, things with Barbara never really felt right after she… broke up with me because… Catalina kissed me. I didn’t _want_ her to kiss me.” He could feel the guilt weighing on his chest. _Excuses_. “And things with Kory— after she broke up with me because Mirage had disguised herself as Kory and I… had slept with her—”

“Mirage did _what_!?” Roy repeated. “Dick, that’s—”

“Don’t say it, I know. I know.” Dick closed his eyes. He felt so tired. “I’ve always known. God, when she told me, I was so nauseous, I couldn’t breathe, but she… she just laughed in my face.”

“She was on my fucking _team_! The number of times I’ve saved her fucking life—”

“It’s in the past. She’s had it worse.” Dick gently ran a hand up and down Roy’s arm to calm him.

“But how could I have missed it?”

“You weren’t with us, then,” Dick answered. “Don’t blame yourself, my treasure. You’re the last person who should be.”

But Roy was still tense. “What about that Tarantula woman?”

“Died. In prison.”

“Good,” Roy whispered, seething. “Good.” And then, after a quiet minute: “…They really broke up with you over things like…”

“No, I— I’ll admit that was an oversimplification. Things had been falling apart even before then.” Dick took in a shaking breath, steadying himself; it was hard, to admit his anger, he didn’t feel like he had the right. “…Still, that… that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t _want_ Catalina to kiss me. I didn’t _want_ to sleep with Mirage instead of Kory. But, well.” He laughed bitterly. “What _I_ want has never mattered, has it? Not until you came along. It seems to be _all_ that matters to you. And that’s why… I don’t know how to respond to it, Roy. It’s new.”

“Dickie-bird…” Roy reached out, hesitated, and touched his face, thumb against his lip. “You know… you know you don’t have to _do_ anything, right? You’re allowed to just… let yourself be loved. That’s allowed.”

“That’s exactly why it scares me,” Dick whispered, almost hissed. “It means I have no control over this, Roy. I don’t have to make any effort to please you. Not emotionally. Not… not sexually. It means that, if… if you leave me again… I won’t have any control over that, either. Hell, I never did.” His eyes were starting to burn again. “How could I have made you stay, if I was never the reason why you had to go?”

Roy’s eyes grew wide. “…I hurt you,” he said, incredulous, like it had just dawned on him. “Oh, my God… I really hurt you.”

Dick blinked rapidly, biting his lip and shaking his head. “N-No, I… you never owed me anything. I never let you… cross that line, after all. I was never… your boyfriend.”

“Dick.” Roy shook his head, disbelieving. “You said I was the only person in your life who never forced you into anything. And then I left. And came back, out of the blue. …I hurt you.”

Dick couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. He covered his mouth to stifle the sobs, refusing to meet Roy’s eyes, ashamed. Roy wrapped his arms around him, and held him tight. “No wonder,” he whispered. “I’m _sorry_ , Dick. God… this whole time… the idea that I might do that to you again…”

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Roy,” Dick half-smiled, half-sobbed. “You’re so, so good for me. You have no idea. Words just aren’t enough to explain it. _I need you._ ” His voice shook. “But you’re Arsenal, right. Anything can be a weapon in your hands.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“You would never mean to,” Dick corrected with a small, rueful smile. He whispered: “I love you, I still love you…”

“So let me make it up to you,” Roy insisted, taking his hand and meeting his eyes, his own blazing with something earnest.

“You _have_. You have. A million times over.” Dick laughed under his breath. “Ever since you showed up again, life has been… I’m grateful for it every day.” He closed his eyes, heart hammering in his chest. “I’m— I’m damaged goods, and you still… you make me feel so _free_ , Roy. Freer than I’ve been with anyone else. I… Roy, I want it to be my forever.” He said it in a rush so that he wouldn’t have the time to reconsider. “I know… that what I want has never mattered before. But it always matters with you.”

Roy stared at him. “Doesn’t it scare you?”

Dick met his eyes, unflinching, but pleading. “It did. It does. But the idea of losing you again scares me so much more.”

Roy’s hand convulsed, and his expression looked lost, like he was afraid to believe it. “…Ask me again,” he whispered. “If you mean it, if you really mean it, ask me one more time.”

“Be mine,” Dick all but hissed it out. “Be mine, Roy Harper.”

Roy lurched forward and kissed him hard. “I always have been,” he said between breaths, a half-hysterical laugh under his words. Dick couldn’t help joining him despite the tears now welling up for an entirely different reason.

“Keep those wandering eyes on me,” he warned, a finger on Roy’s lips. “Nowhere else.”

Roy smiled. “Only if you can promise to let me take care of you,” he returned. “I know, I know it’s hard. I know you need to have an iron grip on every part of your life. But give me this, Dick. Let go. Relax. Please, let me. You don’t have to keep doing it alone.”

Dick nodded, smiling back tearfully. “I’ll try. You’ll have to be patient with me.”

“Patience is all I have,” Roy answered, and his eyes on Dick were impossibly tender.

Dick pulled him closer. “Call me your—”

“— _Pretty Bird_ ,” Roy cut him off, like the words alone could save them, and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, until he finally kissed all of the fear away – leaving nothing but hope for whatever was waiting for them next.

They walked into the hotel restaurant with Roy’s hand around Dick’s waist, the next morning, earning a smirk from Donna and a raised eyebrow from Wally and a blink of the eyes from Garth. “Since when was _that_ a thing?” Garth asked, pointing at them, when Roy pulled out a chair for Dick and Dick sat, smiling.

“Where have you been?” Wally teased.

“Underwater,” Garth retorted promptly. “Wait, am I seriously the only one who had no idea?”

“Oh, Garth.” Donna laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

“Blink twice if you’ve been coerced into this by Harper’s evil, philandering ways, Dick,” Wally said. “I punch hard, these days. Bruce says. Oh yeah, I punched your dad for the whole you-know-what. Don’t mind.”

“You what?” Dick blinked. Twice.

Wally threw a pie at Roy, who dodged almost lazily. “Boss, West is going to get us kicked out of a hotel for the three-hundredth-and-fifth time.”

Donna shook her head. “Children. I work with children.”

“Speaking of work,” Garth piped up hesitantly, “Yesterday went well, didn’t it? I thought, anyway.”

“It did! Super well,” Wally agreed eagerly, catching onto where Garth was going. “We work great together, don’t we? We should do it again. Permanently. We should re-form the Titans, is what I’m saying.”

“There’s already a _Teen_ Titans…” Roy began reluctantly, though he did give Dick a sideways glance. “What do you say?”

Dick smiled down at the table. “I… actually agree with Wally,” he confessed. “Yesterday made me miss it.”

“Could end badly.” Roy shrugged. “Could get too personal and blow up in our faces. Again.”

“No, I thought about that,” Dick answered. “I realised… the five of _us_ work well together. Maybe our mistake was in letting other people—”

“Oh, no. No way in Tartarus,” Donna cut in. “I am _not_ going to be the only woman on this team again. You’re on to something, Dick, I’ll admit, but I can’t. You boys are _draining_ , okay?”

“Fair.” Dick chuckled. “I still think keeping it strictly amongst the people who were there first will resolve all of the, uh, drama issues.”

“Fine, so let Karen and Lilith join, then,” Donna suggested.

Dick hummed. “It’s not a _bad_ idea.”

“If Karen’s in, Mal should be, too,” Garth contributed.

“I nominate Gnarrk,” Roy said. At the weirded-out looks on everyone’s faces, he shrugged. “What? I always liked that guy.”

“Hawk and Dove—” Wally started, only to be interrupted by a resounding _No!_ from the rest. “Fine, fine.” He was practically vibrating with excitement. “But we’re doing it, right? We really are?”

Garth smiled and raised his glass. “Titans together.”

“Titans together!” They shouted along, clinking their glasses against his and laughing contentedly.

Dick leaned back against Roy’s arm slung across his chair, smiling up at his lover and feeling, for the first time in years, young again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it!
> 
> I don’t usually ask you guys for comments over kudos and bookmarks because I have social anxiety and so I get that even typing up feedback can be hard, but this was a really, really difficult chapter to write and this time I’d be so grateful to you if you could please make the effort to leave a comment and tell me what you thought about it. Constructive criticism is welcome! Thanks!
> 
> My Tumblr is anelderling.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so overwhelmed by the feedback you left on the last chapter, you guys. Thank you so much. This is a transitional chapter into our third and final act (can you believe it?).
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

“Roy.”

Pausing in smoking his cigarette to turn and face the source of the voice, Roy raised his head from where he had been bent forward, leaning against the wooden railing of the porch outside the hotel’s restaurant, which overlooked the water in the distance. Just as he had expected, it was Wally. Roy gave him a brief smile and turned back around, letting Wally join him in silence.

“So, you know, congratulations and all that,” Wally said. “When exactly did you two…?”

Roy chuckled, stubbing his cigarette out on the marble. “I’m not really sure. It was a dance. Been a long time coming, that’s all I know.” He gave Wally a pat on the shoulder and another smile. “Thanks.”

From inside the restaurant, he could hear Donna’s voice, calling for Wally, and Wally shouting back, “Go on, I’ll be right there!” Roy didn’t turn to tell Dick the same thing. He had said he wanted to step outside, for a smoke, earlier, and that was it. It had been too hard to sit there with his friends and talk about where to build their new Tower as if everything was alright. He’d managed a few jokes, and then he hadn’t been able to stand it any longer. He hoped that Dick hadn’t noticed anything off.

“…If you hurt him, Roy…” Wally began, same old song.

He’s already _been_ hurt, Roy thought and didn’t say. Instead, he braved a smile and said mildly, “For what it’s worth, Twinkle-Toes? If you had only confessed first – I would never have stood a chance.”

“You know, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Wally grinned.

Roy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I mean, think about it. The most flexible guy on the planet and a human vibrator.”

“…And it turns out he’s still a douchebag.” Wally shoved him. “Come on. The others want to go check out that park we said—”

“You guys go ahead,” Roy cut in. “I should get going. Tell Ollie about yesterday.”

Wally blinked. “Wait, _going_? Why can’t you just call him?”

“It’s only, what, three hours from here? I’ll be back before eight o’ clock, latest. I’m sure I won’t miss much.” His smile was starting to feel permanent. “Tell Dick where I went, would you?”

“Tell Dick…? Hold on, aren’t you going to—”

But Roy was already walking away, ignoring his call. He found Rosebud and climbed inside, driving almost on autopilot. But not even the loudest music and the noise of the road could drown out his thoughts. _It was so far from the first time,_ Dick had said— so… _when_ had the first time been? Mirage? Roy had always wondered about Deathstroke’s obsession with their Robin, and what exactly had happened during their Renegade days. What about juvie? From what he’d heard from friends who had been in the system, Roy didn’t dare imagine the possibilities. Dick had not legally been able to get the body he wanted back then, too— fuck, _had_ he been chucked in with other boys?

By the time he stopped, it was raining outside the truck, and his heart wasn’t far behind. Roy had always had partners who were bold, like he was – wielding their sexuality like either a weapon or a simple fact. Dick was different. Even after their first time, Dick had always been— well, not _shy_ , per se, but— reserved. Demure. Innocent _and_ sensual all at the same time. Having Dick had always felt, to Roy, like… he was being given an expensive gift that he had to handle with care. Yet someone – _multiple_ someones – had been cruel enough to take something that Dick usually offered in such a modest, heart-warmingly pure way; cruel enough to force it from him.

Suddenly all of the times, after the Outsiders, that Dick tensed up when Roy kissed him or touched him, made sense – it always had seemed to take Dick a valiant effort to remind himself that it was _Roy_ touching him, and to relax into it, let it happen. Nausea hit him hard. Roy had always just assumed that it had to do with _him_ , that Dick was hesitant about _him_.

Why _Dick_ , he wanted to know. Of all people. _Dick_.

The door on the passenger side was yanked open, and Roy hastily wiped his eyes. Ollie gave him a short smile, and climbed in, closing the door behind himself. “…Was wondering why you were parked out here and didn’t come in,” he said, his voice careful.

Roy cleared his throat. “The necklace, um… I have information…”

“Information that couldn’t be shared over the phone? And has you crying out here?” Ollie arched an eyebrow.

Roy brought his cigarette to his lips with trembling fingers. “Emi says it’s fine to cry if there’s rain to hide your tears.” He breathed out. “Though I guess that only works when you’re outside.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Roy swallowed, closing his eyes. “What happened to Dinah in Seattle?”

He could practically feel Ollie squirm. Before he could deflect the question, Roy continued, “I know something happened. I just don’t know the details.”

Ollie sighed. “Yeah, well. You weren’t exactly around a lot, then. Not that that’s— I mean, I get it, what with Lian, and… everything. Dinah comes along, I start, you know, leaving… would never expect you to take to her that much.”

“It’s funny how you think my problems with you two back then were more about _us_ than the fact that she’s closer to my age than yours.”

“Roy,” Ollie warned. He ignored it.

“She was there for me when you left me to die. I love her. That’s not why I wasn’t around.” Roy turned to face him. “What… happened… to Dinah in Seattle, Ollie?”

Oliver averted his eyes. “…I’m sorry, kid. It’s just not my story to tell.”

But it was answer enough, and Roy felt his stomach drop. He clenched his hand around the steering wheel just to be holding something. “How did you…” he whispered, “How did you… handle… it all? How did you quit… feeling like you should have, should have been there to stop… should have protected her…”

“Roy, where is this coming from?”

Roy laughed bitterly. “It’s not my story to tell.”

Ollie gave him a long look. Then he turned, sighing. “How’d I handle it, huh. Well, I didn’t. Killed a guy. …But that’s never enough. You’d just want to dig him back up and do it all over again. Still wouldn’t be enough. Then there was therapy, for a while, to… stop the nightmares… stop her from tensing up, every time I touched her. She got better. Then she got worse. I don’t know, Roy. I don’t know what you want to hear. It was messy. Breaking and healing always is.”

Roy nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I guess it’s selfish. Asking about you when it was Dinah who went through it.”

“Dinah’s tough,” Ollie answered. “Nothing can make a survivor like Gotham does. They’re a whole different breed.”

“Yeah.” Roy breathed out a laugh, thinking of Jason. After a quiet minute, he said, mumbling almost, “You ever think about, you know, what might have happened if— if you had been there, to help her…”

“I try not to think about _what if_ , son. That way madness lies, and all that.” Ollie’s eyes seemed sad. “I mean, where would it stop? _What if_ I’d gotten to Dinah. _What if_ I’d gotten to Lian. _What if_ I’d just sucked it up and shot the stupid creatures so my parents could still be around to suck at being my parents right now. _What if_ I never failed you.”

“You ever going to stop kicking yourself for that?”

“No.”

“…Good.” Roy huffed. He shook his head, turning his gaze out the window. “There’s got to be something, though, right. One regret. One thing you’d change about… what happened.”

“I’d rather it never happened at all, but…” Ollie sighed. “Yeah. I’d have stayed. After.”

Roy frowned. “What do you mean?”

Ollie seemed to struggle for words, for a moment, and then he laughed, quiet and self-deprecating. “Dinah, she needed me, after. But I— I don’t know, I— I guess I thought I could outrun it or something. The guilt. I forget, with Dinah, sometimes. That she would need me. She’s so strong, you know? I forget, that— well, that no one on this planet can be strong at all times. Not even her.” He visibly swallowed. “I left her on her own. Can’t even remember what I left to _do_ , exactly. Probably something stupid. Nothing should have been more important than being with her.”

He shook his head. “I have trouble remembering… that most of the people that I love don’t get to take for granted a lot of the things that I get to. And, I don’t just mean money. We’re broken people, our family. I… I should have realised that she needed the reminder that even though I couldn’t be there for her at the time when it counted most, I was there for her _after_. It’s such a deceptively simple thing, that I forget, Roy… that sometimes, I just need to _be there_.” He gave Roy a rueful smile. “Though I guess you’d know all about that, huh, son…”

Roy’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “So… Dinah had been through hell and you just… you just, what, hopped on a plane and fucked off?”

Ollie averted his eyes. “I’m not proud about it.”

Roy passed a hand over his face, and swore. “You know what our problem is, Ollie, you know what it is? It’s that we’re too goddamn similar, that’s what. No wonder we fight so fucking much.” He twisted the key in the ignition, bringing Rosebud back to life. “I have to go. I have someplace I need to be. Someplace I _should_ have been this whole time.”

Ollie gave him an unreadable look. Then he nodded, sombre. “Whatever this is about, Roy… I hope I helped. And if you ever need to talk again…”

“I didn’t come here to talk, and quit trying to parent me, you’re several years too late.” Roy laughed under his breath, genuinely amused. “We’re good, Ollie. There’s no point trying to make up for the past now. Ship’s sailed. No love lost. Do better with Connor and Mia, yeah?”

“…I try, kid. I try.” Ollie reached over and ruffled his hair. “Ah, you were always too good for me, anyway. Get out of here.”

“About your necklace…” Roy hastily filled him in on everything that had happened the day before. “Call if you need me to do more, but can you _try_ not to hijack a vacation next time?”

Ollie chuckled. “Sorry. Drive safe.”

He didn’t, he was in a rush, but he arrived back at the hotel unscathed. It was nearing twilight, and he wasn’t sure if the others would have returned from wherever they had gone off to or not yet. “Dick?” he called as he pushed the door to their room open. Dick turned, clearly surprised; he’d been by the bed, changing out of the clothes he’d probably worn out into more comfortable ones.

“Hey.” Roy leaned against the doorway, hand in his jeans pocket, giving Dick a small, tight smile. “…I’m sorry I disappeared without…”

“No, that’s. Wally explained.” Dick smiled back, equally as hesitant. This was Dick with his walls up. Roy hadn’t fully realised how candid Dick had been with him for the past few weeks until that moment.

 _Shit,_ he thought. He closed the door behind himself, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have,” he mumbled.

Dick’s shoulders slumped, his eyes remorseful. His hands – which had been busy, unfastening the buttons of his shirt – he folded in front of his chest, in an almost defensive gesture. “…I didn’t think you’d be back until… I don’t know. Tomorrow. Earliest.” He smiled, wry. “Things got a little… intense, yesterday, I thought it might have scared— I thought you might have needed, um… a breather.”

Which left Roy speechless. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was that he could possibly have done right in his past life to deserve Dick, to deserve someone who knew him so well and loved him regardless. “…Yeah,” he admitted, his voice a little hoarse. He wanted to apologise again, but Dick gave him a brief, bittersweet smile and turned back around.

Roy watched Dick’s fingers play with the clothes strewn across the bed like he couldn’t decide whether to pick them up or not. “…Roy?” A whisper. “This changes everything between us, doesn’t it.” He said it like he was resigned.

Roy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Dick sighed. “Now that you _know_ , you— you’re never going to look at me the same way, again.” His hands gave up pretending to be busy, and stilled. “I’ll forever be a victim in your eyes now. When you touch me, you’ll do it like you’re touching fine china. …If you can even want me like that anymore, without feeling like you’re committing a crime.” His voice was growing quieter and quieter, like he was confessing to something even worse than what he had on the night before. “That’s why you left, right. You couldn’t stand it?”

“Dick.” Roy crossed the distance between them and pulled Dick into his arms, holding tight. “I left because I was upset. I found out you’d been hurt and I was upset, Pretty Bird. I swear to you, that’s all it was.”

“But it feels like it,” Dick whispered. “It feels like things are different.”

“The only thing— the _only_ thing it changes between us, is that I want to be kinder,” Roy insisted. “You’re stronger and braver than ever in my eyes.”

“Then prove it.” Dick twisted in his arms until they were face-to-face, toying with the collar of Roy’s shirt. “Show me…”

Roy used one curled finger to tilt Dick’s head up by the chin, locking their lips together, gentle, but purposeful. Dick’s answering sigh sounded almost relieved, and Roy pulled him closer. For the first time he noticed that the hesitation that used to be there when they had done this as wary second-time lovers had completely disappeared. And Dick thought Roy would see him as a victim? He almost laughed. No, Dick was a miracle. A survivor.

Dick’s hands slid across Roy’s shoulders, and then tangled themselves in his hair. His tongue did something complicated that sent a rush through Roy, which gathered, in his stomach. Kisses and wandering hands alone shouldn’t have been enough to start anything, but something about the desperation in Dick’s every move seemed to have made this a special case. By the time Dick let him go, Roy was very, very interested.

He watched as Dick’s fingers returned to their earlier business of unbuttoning his shirt. Dick hadn’t indicated that he wanted more than what they had just shared, so Roy turned away, to be on the safe side. His eyes were considering the door to the bathroom, out of obvious necessity, when Dick cleared his throat. “You can look, Roy,” he murmured. “Nothing here you haven’t seen before.”

And _damn_ – if that didn’t raise the temperature by about a hundred degrees. Roy knew that there was something purposeful in his eyes when he turned them to Dick again. Demure as always, Dick turned around, as if in answer. He now had his back to Roy… Roy watched as the shirt slipped off his shoulders, giving him a torturous, teasing preview of the masterpiece of sun-kissed skin and lean muscle that was his lover’s body.

Before Dick could turn back around, and Roy could see the map of scars, which he now knew by heart, Roy took a quick step forward, wrapped his arms around Dick from behind, and pressed close enough against him that Dick was sure to be able to feel how much, exactly, Roy _did_ still want him. Dick gasped. “…Hi,” he whispered, breathless, half-laughing.

Roy smiled against his hair. “Still think it changes anything?” His hands roamed, lower, lower still, until he was easing Dick’s briefs, his last item of clothing, off, leaving him honest as the day he was born. Dick twisted his head to kiss him again and Roy obliged, giving Dick what he loved most in the meantime: the feel of Roy’s hard, calloused archer’s hand against all of his soft places. But the frustration of not being able to do it with _both_ his hands like he used to distracted Roy from the kiss, and Dick, sensing that, parted.

He turned to face Roy. Locked lips again, this time trailing his hand across Roy’s chest. Lower. Then higher. Steadily pushing Roy’s shirt up, until with some manoeuvring it was being tugged off Roy’s head. “Take this off,” he said, tapping at Roy’s metal arm. “It might hurt me.”

Roy sighed. Reluctantly, he detached the stupid thing, placing it none too gently onto the nearest drawer. He kept his eyes averted, suddenly hyperaware of his body, in the worst way. Sex was supposed to be his thing, he thought, bitter. Good fun. He hated that he’d lost his old confidence about it.

“Hey.” Dick reached up and touched his face, forcing Roy to meet his eyes. He kissed Roy, tender, the hand that wasn’t clutched at Roy’s shoulder reaching for his fingers. It took Roy a minute to realise that Dick wasn’t simply trying to hold hands; he was tugging at Roy’s fingers, guiding them somewhere. Curious, Roy let him.

In an uncharacteristically bold move, Dick pulled Roy’s fingers between his thighs – until Roy was essentially palming at warmth, and wetness, surprise and helpless desire hitting him with all the force of a speeding train. Dick buried his face in the junction between Roy’s neck and shoulder, under the pretext of pressing a kiss against what was left of his arm. “…You did that, Roy,” he whispered right up against Roy’s ear. “You do that to me, you always did, always will…”

“Fuck.” Roy all but gasped it out, ravening. “Baby, you’re _gushing_ …”

He let go and pushed Dick back far enough to press their lips together again. “…Roy,” Dick panted once they separated to breathe, “I wasn’t expecting… I didn’t buy any…”

Roy nodded once in understanding, and kissed him once more, gently pushing him backwards until his knees met the edge of the bed. Dick let himself fall, one hand tangled up in Roy’s hair and the other feeling around behind himself so he could arrange the pillows against the headboard with the kind of dexterity that only someone like Dick could ever manage. Roy let him go and Dick dug his heels in, using them as leverage to push himself up against the pillows. He gave Roy a small, playful smile. “Come here,” he whispered, beckoning.

Struck by the beauty of him for an instant, Roy leaned sideways from where he was seated on the edge of the bed, so that he was hovering over Dick, but not quite where Dick clearly wanted him to be. His hand brushed Dick’s hair away from his face, and he pressed his lips against Dick’s forehead. “…Wait,” he answered, his eyes dancing.

Dick’s gaze on him went from longing to curious to understanding and aroused, when Roy’s hand stroked up and down his flank. Roy leaned down and sucked a mark into the side of Dick’s hip, his hand slowly and steadily easing Dick’s knees apart. Something primal in him thrilled at testing the limits of Dick’s flexibility – the very, _very_ generous limits – and when Dick was as spread as he could get, Roy moved his lips lower.

He pressed a brief kiss to the inside of Dick’s thigh, tempted to leave a mark there, too – except Dick was now squirming, with impatience. Roy obligingly hooked his hand under Dick’s knee, to brace himself – and leaned forward.

He was careful – Dick’s body was different, after all, more sensitive. Just the first touch of Roy’s tongue had him biting his lip, his head thrown back against the pillow; and when Roy closed his eyes and took him in his mouth, Dick sucked in a sharp breath. He made no obvious sounds, as usual, the most restrained lover that Roy had ever had, but his hands grasped the sheets like he would fall if he didn’t have something to hold on to, and the leg that Roy wasn’t holding up was starting to slip.

Roy lost himself in it for a moment, Dick against his tongue – softer, where Roy was hard – Roy released him, brought his mouth further back, slid his tongue past thick folds, teased him open, tasted and _savoured_. Dick’s breathing became harsher and more laboured the further Roy went. “…Your _piercing_ ,” Dick gasped. Inspired, Roy eased out again, kissed his way back up, pressed metal against oh-so-sensitive skin.

The sound that Dick made around his name would definitely follow Roy into his daydreams.

He hadn’t thought that his tongue would be enough, but when Roy twisted his head just right, Dick’s hand came down, quick as lightning, to grab a fistful of Roy’s hair, involuntarily pushing Roy closer against him while he trembled, and trembled, and Roy tasted a flood of sweet metal. Roy eased his tongue out, kissed his way up Dick’s stomach… but before he could get any further, Dick yanked him up and kissed him. Roy thought that he could feel wetness against his cheeks. He was about to pull back and investigate, concerned; but Dick wouldn’t let him, holding Roy against his collarbone while his other hand slipped past the waistband of Roy’s pants and caressed him, stroked him, coaxed him to a crescendo.

So Roy bit down on the curve of Dick’s neck instead, intent on leaving a mark there. He felt Dick turn, and kiss his hair, and before long Dick’s eager hand had him tensing, gasping out, “Pretty Bird, _Pretty Bird_ – oh _fuck_ …” as he fell over the edge.

Dick’s hold on him finally loosened. Breathing hard, Roy pulled back, but the satiated smile on his face quickly fell when he caught Dick’s expression, the tear-tracks on his cheeks. Panic gripped him, and Roy said in a rush, “Babe, what— what’s wrong, did I hurt—”

“I’d forgotten,” Dick whispered, cutting him off, his voice quivering, smile sad. “I’d forgotten what it was _supposed_ to be like, Roy.” And he pulled him closer, clinging to him like a drowning man to a lifeboat. “Again, please, again, remind me…”

Roy’s heart clenched. He latched onto his shoulder again, making sure the mark he’d left there would last for at least a fortnight, while he buried his middle and ring fingers three knuckles deep inside of Dick.

After, Dick curled up on his side as if he wanted to make himself as small as possible in Roy’s arms, and whispered, “ _Thank_ you.”

In answer, Roy took his hand and pressed a fervent kiss to the back of it. “…I love you, Dickie-bird.”

The look in Dick’s eyes, at that, was something Roy knew he would cherish to his dying day. No one else had ever looked at him like that before. “How much?”

Roy gave him a crooked smile. “I love you to the stars and back. I love you infinity times infinity. I love you—”

“Okay, okay, enough.” Dick’s laugh was sweet, a little giddy. “God. I’m the luckiest person on earth,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder, like he couldn’t believe it. And, _fuck_ , Roy thought, a lump catching in his throat. No one else would ever have said that about him, either. Certainly not after he’d almost taken off hardly hours ago. The kind of devotion that he felt for Dick in that moment sent danger signals to his brain which he pointedly ignored. He’d die for him. He’d kill for him. Anything, everything – this was love in all its violence.

His phone vibrated against the bedside table then, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder to read the text and sighed, rueful. “Donna. Wants to know if we’re coming down for dinner.”

Dick groaned. “Tell her I never want to move again.”

Roy laughed; he could feel it rumbling in his chest, against Dick’s head, making Dick smile. Dick then made a sound like he’d just remembered something. “While you were gone, I came up with a plan to draw your thief out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” There was mischief in Dick’s eyes. He glanced up at Roy with half a grin. “How do you feel about actually _acting_ like heirs to billion-dollar fortunes again?”

Roy grinned. “…I’m listening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought I would make Ollie bring up Shado. Bah, non. Please tell me what you thought of this, even if it was 80% sex, LOL.
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr, I’m anelderling.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we’re going with Pre-Flashpoint canon as usual for secret identity status: the Arrowfam’s are pretty much an open secret and the Batfam’s are, of course, _secret_ secret. As for Ollie’s billionaire status, it was in a complicated mess last we saw him before the reboot happened, so we’re going with current canon for that (he’s loaded).
> 
> Onwards!

**now**

It was strange to be dressed in Armani and sitting in the backseat of a fancy car again. Ollie’s financial status had fluctuated so often that Roy had been in and out of that life about as often as he had been in and out of Ollie’s life. He wasn’t even sure what he was worth anymore – whether he still had a place in Ollie’s will or whether Ollie had never written him back in – and, glancing at his impeccably-dressed (Saint Laurent, Roy noted, all-black) boyfriend sitting next to him, completely at ease, Roy envied Dick.

Not for the money, or even the lifestyle. Just that Dick seemed so used to it. Roy sighed; well, he thought, at least _he_ was used to feeling like a fish out of water everywhere he went.

“You okay?” Dick asked, giving him a little smile.

“No, I’m not. You look like a daydream and I won’t so much as get to hold your hand at the reception because _press_ ,” Roy answered, aware that he sounded about a stride away from pouting. “Also, I’m pissed because I can’t leave my piercings on with this get-up.”

Dick laughed, affection in his eyes. “Poor old Speedy.” He shook his head. “I know it’s tedious, but if this works, we can finally close your case. Hmm?”

“Ollie’s case,” Roy corrected, annoyed. The car passed the neon lights of some establishment or the other, and Roy caught the picture that Dick made out of the corner of his eyes. He grinned, leaning closer. “You _could_ make it worth my while when we get home…”

“Master Harper,” Alfred’s voice cut in (and Roy winced), “I’m not sure why you would assume that, given the company I keep, I can’t hear you when you lower your voice like that, but I assure you that I can and you might as well speak as you normally do, it makes absolutely no difference.”

“Freaking Bat-butlers,” Roy said in a deliberately loud voice. “Happy?”

“Alfie, do you _have_ to scare everyone I bring home who isn’t Barbara?” Dick sighed.

“I don’t recall such a thing ever happening. You have _not_ brought him home,” Alfred answered – his expression remained unchanged but Roy caught the little twinkle in his eyes in the rear-view mirror and smiled to himself.

“All those times when I was a kid don’t count?”

“I was not aware of your intentions during _those times_ , Master Harper, they were not the sort of _bringing home_ Master Richard was alluding to.”

“Oh, is this the part where I ask him for permission to date you?” Roy grinned at Dick. “’Cause I’d take him over Bruce any day.”

“Then you’re an idiot. Trust me, Alfred could have killed you a million times over by now if he didn’t secretly like you,” Dick returned with a crooked smile.

“If you could perhaps refrain from speaking on my behalf, Master Richard?” But Roy felt none of the hostility that usually surrounded Bruce around Roy from Alfred, so he only laughed. They’d meant to get to this thing on their own, but when Dick had had to swing by the manor for an appropriate suit – he didn’t have any on hand in Bludhaven – Alfred had insisted that they do things _the proper way_. So here he was.

Dinah had sent Roy his – three choices, actually, along with a note that said: _Ollie couldn’t keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it, you know that. Call if you want the story straight from the source?_

Roy wouldn’t, of course – some horrors were better left to oblivion – but he appreciated it.

“Game face on,” Dick said, as the car made the last turn and pulled into the parking area behind the museum where the reception would be well underway by now. Roy sighed, straightened the lapels of his coat, and braced himself as the car stopped. Through the tinted-glass windows, he could see that the entire lawn had been carpeted, all the way round to the front entrance, where a handful of photographers and reporters hovered around. Local news-worthy, Roy deduced from their numbers, nothing sensational. Just like Dick had predicted – come the next morning, this would be a boring headline in a small column somewhere, probably not even on the front pages: _Star City Mayor Donates Laweian Artefact to Bluthafen Museum of Art and Culture._

It had surprisingly taken a lot to convince Domini to arrange this, _and_ to add Roy and Dick (well, Oliver and Bruce, officially, but Ollie had been “indisposed” and Bruce had had “another pressing engagement”) to the guest list. Apparently, he hadn’t wanted to part with the necklace, even though it was nothing but simple coral and a little bit of gold – essentially worthless, compared to everything else he owned. Ollie had had to remind him of how many close calls he’d had with the mercs so he would give in.

But he _had_ given in, and everything was now in place – Roy and Dick had arrived, Constantine and Zatanna were undercover as the entertainment for the night as a pair of show-magicians. “If whoever’s after that thing hears that Domini’s showcasing it outside of his precious security system for one whole night, they’re bound to show up,” Dick had told them. “Best case scenario, we ask them nicely how to get rid of… whatever’s in that necklace. Worst case, we forget the being nice part.”

This was just Plan A, of course, Dick wasn’t convinced that whoever it was would take such obvious bait. Roy was hopeful, though. Not everyone was as paranoid as Batman.

Alfred opened the door for them. “Thanks for the ride.” Dick smiled, as he got out. Alfred gave him a partly disapproving, partly exasperated sigh. “Really, _were_ you genuinely planning to drive yourself to an event where you’d be expected to represent the Wayne name, Master Richard? And if you would please go in without stopping to talk to your _driver_ while the press is watching…”

Dick ignored him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek just to prove a point. “Ollie drives himself all the time,” Roy pointed out.

Alfred – wrong-footed by the kiss, and struggling to retain his dignity – cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I don’t speak for the, ah, more _modern_ habits of the nouveau riche, Master Harper.”

“Hey! Ollie is third generation, easy,” Roy protested; then considered it. “Uh… I think.”

Dick laughed and tugged him. “Come on. Bye, Alfie.”

Roy hurried after his boyfriend. “I think Alfred doesn’t consider names legitimate unless they have more than one syllable. I mean, Wally gets to be _Master Wallace_ , but I’m never _Master Roy_ — wait, so, what does he call Garth? Garth…ur?”

“Oh, I like that. Garthurian Legend…”

“ _Master_ Garthurian Legend.”

Dick laughed. “We should tell him it’s time to give up _Tempest_.”

As they neared the entrance, the photographers and reporters caught sight of Dick, returned to their business, and then did a double-take. It didn’t take long for them to descend upon him like vultures. Roy felt a sudden, sharp sense of protectiveness – and had to remind himself that reserved, camera-shy Wayne heir Richard Grayson was just a persona; the _real_ Dick – charming, charismatic, painfully childlike – had just been talking his ear off about motorcycle engines not an hour ago.

“Mister Wayne, is it true you’re living in Bludhaven again? Will Bruce Wayne be making an appearance later tonight? How important is the cause of art preservation to the—”

Roy wasn’t spared, either. “Mister Queen—”

“Still Harper, darling, Ollie never popped the question,” Roy drawled, rolling his eyes. They wanted to know if Oliver would be running against Domini for mayor of Star City again. He smiled and said _no comment_. They wanted to know where he had disappeared for the past few years (Dick, coming from a family of actual cryptids, never got asked that, the lucky bastard). He smiled and said _no comment_.

“Gotham royalty meets Star City sensation.” (This one looked and sounded like tabloid press.) “Does this mean the two of you are friends again?”

Dick blinked, giving Roy and the reporter a look of surprise that looked so genuine, so uncontrived that Roy almost laughed and ruined it. “I wasn’t aware we ever stopped…?”

When they finally disentangled themselves from that little crowd, they got sucked into a different one, inside – the one Roy had been dreading most. “ _Mingle,_ ” Dick whispered, a warning and an order all at the same time, as they stepped onto the gallery that surrounded the museum floor beneath. Easy for him to say, Roy thought, Prince Charming that he was. Roy had a _reputation_ within these circles, and not a very good one. Between him and Ollie, Roy was pretty sure they kept the Star City tabloids in business.

_Star City Billionaire Seeing Gotham Nobody Almost Half His Age? Star City Billionaire’s Adoptee in Narcotics Addiction Scandal? Star City Billionaire Loses Company and Inheritance? Star City Billionaire’s Adoptee Father of Child, Possible Asian Descent?_

Dick was snatched away by the well-fed mothers encased in pearls almost immediately – flashing their daughters at him like they were salesmen. Roy unfortunately got cornered by the acerbic crowd, the kind that didn’t take well to class traitors like Ollie, a lot of them who _knew_ Ollie personally. “That’s unfortunate,” a smug suit-and-tie said when Roy answered that no, Ollie was not coming. “It’s always entertaining to hear his… _informative_ political tirades. You aren’t, you know, a socialist, are you?”

Roy coughed to hide his incredulous laugh. “Champagne and all,” he said, raising the glass in question. Then he bowed sarcastically and walked off to re-join Dick.

“You remember me, of course, Richard,” a simpering old woman in a giant blue balloon— _dress_ , Roy corrected himself reluctantly— said, as she took Dick’s hand and daintily shook it.

“Mabel. Of course,” Dick answered with a polite smile. “How’s Anna? And, please, it’s Dick.”

“Oh, Anna’s wonderful. Home from a semester in France, didn’t you hear? Anna – ” this she directed at a petite blonde, behind Roy, who came prancing over – “You remember Richard. Richard Grayson- _Wayne_ …”

“It’s Dick.” He gave her a handshake, too. “Hi.”

“ _Oui_ , _maman_ , we met at that lovely Memorial Day boat-party in the Hamptons, _non_? I would never forget.” She gave Dick a sugary smile and reintroduced herself in heavily accented French.

Dick smiled right back and answered in clearer, faster French – something to the effect of _You sound like a textbook, dear._

Roy choked.

“…Uh… right…” Anna clearly hadn’t understood a word, and gave up her gratuitous French for the rest of the conversation.

“Now, Richard—”

“It’s Dick.”

“—Don’t you have a young lady of your own yet?” Mabel continued, unfazed. “You’re twenty-five, aren’t you? Plenty of _fine_ prospectives to choose from. As a matter of fact, my Anna here—”

“Mother!” Anna faked indignation, but she batted her eyelashes at Dick anyway.

“I’m twenty-seven, actually, and I’d really rather focus on my job at the moment…”

“Twenty-seven! Well, now, Richard—”

“Dick.”

“—That’s just disgraceful. It isn’t fair, you know, keeping all of that… charm, to yourself.” Mabel laughed; it sounded like sharp nails sliding down a chalkboard. “Anyway, why you would _need_ to work in the first place, I’ll never understand. You youngsters and your whims of independence. I was _devastated_ for Bruce, when I heard of you joining the, uh – the police force… noble of you to wish to help others, but think of your benefactor, child… besides, he helps people just as much, if not more.”

Dick smiled. “That he does.” Roy leaned forward on the golden railing of the gallery so they wouldn’t catch him laughing, desperate to stay quiet.

“Oh, but you don’t have to stand here and listen to an old crone like me rambling away. Why don’t you two find a corner and, ah… reacquaint… yourselves with each other?” Mabel pushed Anna closer, unabashed hope written all over her face.

Anna beamed at him. “Yes, Richard, let’s—”

“It’s Dick. I’d rather not, really – my friend is waiting.” He half-turned, and Roy raised a casual hand at them, grinning crookedly.

Mabel’s eyes glinted with regretful recognition, and her lips became so thin, they almost disappeared. “Oh. Yes, of course.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I… suppose we’ll talk again later, then, Richard—”

“Dick.”

She smiled tightly. “ _Dick_.” Forced through her teeth, like an obscenity she couldn’t stand.

“I get it now,” Roy said when he could finally have his boyfriend to himself again. “Why you keep insisting that people call you Dick. It’s a respect thing, isn’t it?”

Dick laughed under his breath, his eyes dancing. “No, I just really like making pretentious rich people say _dick_ a lot.”

Roy burst out laughing, ignoring the disapproving looks he invited.

Below the gallery, the magic show was wrapping up, and the music starting to fade out. “Show time,” Roy said, nodding at where Domini was walking through the crowd and towards the stage, at the centre of the museum floor. Behind him was a veiled case that Roy knew contained the necklace. Domini would make his speech and then they’d pull off the deep-red cloth. The people who’d been hovering around on the gallery started to make for the staircase and saunter down. A few surreptitiously turned to give Roy and Dick a curious look for being the only ones left standing up there, but Dick made a show of wiping his forehead and tugging at his collar like he needed air, Roy pretending to hand him a glass of water, and that quickly satisfied them.

“Everybody in position?” Dick murmured into the inside of his wrist. Roy listened to the affirmative answers from Constantine and Zatanna in the comms, and directed his attention to the stage. Domini was on a spiel about the importance of cultural heritage (as if the whitest white guy in America would ever know), his hands gripping the glass lectern so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, as if it physically hurt to be saying what he was saying. Bored, Roy let his eyes wander, looking for any suspicious activity from the crowd below.

He froze.

“…What?” Dick whispered, touching his arm. “Did you see her?”

Roy gave him a short smile. “No. Keep an eye out from up here, would you? I have to check something.” He ignored Dick’s questioning look and hurried down the staircase.

* * *

**then**

“No alcohol?” Roy clicked his tongue, annoyed, as he shut the door of Dick’s fridge again. “Of course not. Always a pleasure to hang out at your place, Grayson…”

“The sarcasm, it hurts,” Dick replied flatly, as he rolled his eyes. Roy joined Donna – who had her head buried in Dick’s copy of the latest GQ and was quietly laughing to herself – at the kitchen table, leaning back on the chair and propping his feet up on it. Dick arched an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything, so Roy only gave him a faux-innocent grin.

“Hey, Harper. Where are they shipping you off to next?” Wally asked from the couch, where half his attention was on a video-game he was playing.

“It’s called _classified_ for a reason, idiot.”

Dick slid a bottle of Gatorade across the table. Roy stopped it with his hand. “That’s the best you’re going to get from me.”

Donna was still laughing, and saying, “I’m tempted to ask you for a hundred copies of this, to take back to Themyscira – it would prove very informative,” when the door was pushed open, and a… well, a miniature Dick walked into the apartment.

Seriously. Dark hair, blue eyes, sun-kissed skin. The only visible differences between them were the curls in this one’s hair and his slightly heftier build. He froze at the sight of the rest of them glancing up at him with their curious looks. Roy turned to Dick, about to ask him who the doppelganger was if only to break the awkward silence, but the look on Dick’s face made him hesitate. It was weird, a mix of hate and affection and guilt all at once. Roy knew that look – saw it on Wally when Roy got too close to Donna all the time.

Interesting.

He watched as Dick stomped over to the kid, and strained to hear what Dick was saying to him. “—No… I know I promised, but it’s not a good time right now… no you can’t, we’re talking about a mission.” (Roy was definitely _not_ aware of this.) “A secret mission. Look, just— go wait in my room, or something.”

And here was the other difference. If this had been Dick, at that age, who’d been talked down to like that, Dick would have looked hurt, maybe even turned and run back out the door, possibly in tears. This kid did neither. His expression was hardening, body language all tense. He gave Dick a curt nod and brushed past him in the direction of the bedroom.

“…Who was that?” Donna asked.

Dick pursed his lips. “No one. That kid Bruce took in. You must have read about it in the papers.”

When Dick had his back turned, Wally mouthed at Donna and Roy: _Kid Bruce adopted,_ and, oh. Now it all made sense.

“’Scuse me,” Roy said, pushing his chair back and standing. “Bathroom.”

Nobody questioned it, so he exited the kitchen, and closed the door, behind himself. The door to Dick’s bedroom was open, and not-miniature-Dick was sitting on the edge of the bed, glaring at his schoolbag like it was the cause of all his problems. Roy approached the door. “Hi,” he said, leaning against the doorway, hands in his jeans pockets, smiling crookedly.

The kid looked up, wary. “…What?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to say hi.” Roy stepped into the room. “Since we never got to do it properly – you know, exchange introductions and all that – the last time we met.”

Now the kid looked carefully neutral. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never met you before.” His accent was pure Gotham, like Dinah’s, making Roy miss her all of a sudden.

“Please.” Roy snorted. “If you’re not Robin, I’m getting married to Bruce Wayne next Tuesday.”

A pair of narrowed blue eyes scrutinised him for a minute. Then all the tension left them, and Roy was rewarded with a small grin, almost mirroring his own. “If Dick trusts you… I guess I can.” The kid held out a hand. “I’m Jason. To—uh, Wayne. Roy Harper, right? Speedy?”

“Actually, Agent Harper more often than not, these days. But, yeah.” Roy took his hand, smiling. “What, you couldn’t tell just from my _eyes_? Considering you _did_ stare into them long enough to fucking guess who Cheshire was the last time?”

“See, why do you have to make it weird? I was detective-ing. Pretty well, too, I might add,” Jason returned, without hesitation. Okay, definitely _not_ mini-Dick. Roy decided to quit teasing him, it was never as fun if they could give as good as they got.

“So,” he began. “What’d you do to put a stick up Dick’s ass?”

Jason huffed, viciously shoving his schoolbag, which fell to the carpeted floor with a little _plop_ , to express his feelings. “You mean _another_ one?” He fell quiet. “I don’t know. He promised to help me out with Math. How the hell was I supposed to know he had friends over?”

Help him out with Math? Huh. So their relationship wasn’t entirely antagonistic. Was this a… Dick-reducing-Donna-to-tears, type of situation? Either way, if he did _like_ this kid, then Dick would be all wracked with guilt once his temper settled, later. Especially if Jason was miserable.

Roy shrugged. “I’m no Econ major – never even _went_ to college, actually – but I can try to help. Let’s see.”

* * *

**now**

Roy pushed past the crowd, his eyes on the head of dark hair that he’d spotted, which was now weaving through the long tables of catering on the other end of the room. He ignored Zatanna’s questioning look when he passed her, determined to catch up to his target. “Hey,” he said, bringing his hand down on a shoulder clad in a white shirt, and black waistcoat. “Can I have a word? _Waiter_?”

The “waiter” turned, eyes wide for a split second at the realisation that it was Roy and then quickly darting side to side to make sure that no one was watching. He grabbed Roy by the wrist and pulled him behind the curtain which separated the museum floor from stacks of boxes and utensils, probably belonging to the catering service. “Why the hell are you here!?” Jason demanded, incredulous.

“Me!?” Roy repeated. “Why the hell are _you_!?”

Jason crossed his arms. “I asked first.”

“Are you tangled up in this, too?” Roy asked, the thought occurring to him, but Jason only frowned.

“Tangled up in… what?”

Roy sized him up. He looked like he had been doing well. Healthy. No dark circles, so a couple of nights’ decent nightmare-less sleep, at least. No paler than the last time Roy had seen him. Roy was suddenly hit by a rush of sheer resentment that completely blindsided him. Jason looked like he had been doing _well_.

Roy, on the other hand, had cried himself to sleep in an empty apartment that echoed too damn loudly not five fucking months ago.

“Roy,” Jason said, interrupting his thoughts. “Tangled up in what?”

Mechanically, Roy told him the story. Jason seemed interested, nodding at appropriate intervals. “I’m not. I got other business in here,” he explained, when Roy had finished. Lowering his voice: “I’m undercover. Working for… someone… in Gotham. Look,” he hesitated, as if contemplating whether or not he could trust Roy with this information, and wasn’t that a kick to the gut. “Long story short, he hired somebody he shouldn’t have. Didn’t trust me enough yet to let me finish the job for him at the time – something in Bludhaven. She went rogue when he sent her down here, he’s not sure why.”

“So your mission is to find her and…?”

Jason shrugged. “It’ll earn his trust. For keeps, this time. Then, I can finally take him down. He put a tracker on her, but she must have been able to tamper with it somehow – the signal keeps fluctuating. This is where she last was according to the signal I got two hours ago.”

“Right.” Roy nodded curtly, his lips thinning. “Well, don’t get in my way and I won’t get in yours.”

“…Don’t tell Dick I’m in Bludhaven,” Jason half-mumbled. “He’s… territorial.”

“Right,” Roy repeated.

An uncomfortable silence fell. Jason shifted awkwardly. He looked like he wanted to return to the floor, but before he could, Roy blurted out, “That’s all you have to say to me?”

A deep sigh. “…Roy—”

“I just, I don’t understand, Jay.” Roy shook his head, his voice pleading in spite of his best efforts. “Usually when people _almost die_ it’s supposed to result in tearful reunions, not break-ups.”

Jason averted his eyes. “…If you don’t understand, you never will, Roy.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Roy implored. “Will I _ever_ get a non-cryptic answer from you? I thought—” _I thought I meant more to you than that._ “I thought our… partnership, meant more to you than that.”

Jason opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by the curtain being lifted. “…Roy? I thought I heard your voice c—” Dick froze. The curtain fell back down behind him, where he had dropped the hand that had been holding it open in surprise. “ _Jason?_ ” he hissed.

“…Wonderful,” Jason muttered, sarcastic. He made a vague gesture. “Undercover. Different mission. Don’t kick me out, Bruce wanted me on this.”

But it looked like the mission was the last thing on Dick’s mind, because he kept turning from Jason to Roy to Jason again, eyes wary. Roy stepped closer to him, taking his hand, and squeezing reassuringly. “I’ll be out in a minute… that okay?”

Dick’s expression became unreadable. “…Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He paused. Leaned up and kissed Roy. _Territorial,_ Roy remembered. “Hurry. Someone showed up. I need you.”

With one last look at Jason, he ducked back out. Roy didn’t feel like turning his eyes away from the curtain to meet Jason’s again.

“…You deserved better, Roy,” Jason said, and his voice sounded firm, determined. “You always did. And, it doesn’t get any better than Dick Grayson, does it.” Roy hadn’t heard him step closer. He only felt a hand gripping his shoulder. Again? The finality of the gesture was starting to become predictable, Roy thought. He said nothing as Jason brushed past him and disappeared under the curtain.

Roy let out a weary breath. It wasn’t closure, but it was something. Taking a moment to himself, he waited. Then he followed him out.

* * *

**then**

He’d really thought that the time he’d spent behind prison walls, a forced withdrawal, would have cured him – and he really should have known better. Roy hadn’t touched H again, after… _after_ , but when he’d lost his arm and had the unholy Oxy-Percs-Vikes trinity prescribed to him for the pain, he’d discovered, unfortunately, that morphine was almost as good. Not _as_ good, obviously. But almost, and that inch was all his vulnerable self had needed to latch on to a new kind of addiction.

He had really thought that his time in prison would have cured him, but then he and Jay and Kory had been involved in a raid at a warehouse that contained— Christ, contained _boxes_ and _boxes_ of Percocet, Vicodin, and who knew what else.

Lian wouldn’t have wanted you to, was his first thought, but that only inevitably led him along to the next: Lian isn’t here, and never will be again.

He’d tried. He’d really tried. His hand had fished out one bottle so fast that neither of his friends noticed, and hastily crammed it into a compartment on his belt, regardless.

Later – floating on clouds, thanks to this stolen pocketful of bliss – he and Kory had found a corner of the starship, because a bed had been too much trouble to reach, for some fun. “…Do you ever think about him?” Roy asked, because it was only when he’d swallowed fake calm that he could ever be brave enough to… and because his conscience almost always took the form of Dick Grayson.

Which made absolutely no sense – because Dick was the only person who would never judge, the only person he could never disappoint. For some reason. Not that Dick wouldn’t disapprove, of course, but it’d be because Roy was hurting himself, mostly, more than the other thing.

He ached.

“Sometimes,” Kory confessed, her voice quiet. But there was no sadness in it. Some longing, maybe, but mostly just affection.

And then, after a quiet minute, she turned on her side, resting her cheek on her hand. “Don’t you think that falling in love with Dick is a lifetime contract? You just can’t opt out, can you?”

Roy laughed himself _sick_.

Then he’d gone two whole weeks without even remembering that the bottle of death-wishes existed. It had lasted for as long as Kory got shot, by something alien, and he and Jason hadn’t had any idea how to fix her. He’d caved. Kory healed. He never did.

It was when he was down to his last two that Jason said anything, without really saying anything at all. “Stay off of that stuff tomorrow,” he’d simply said, attention on washing his hands at the bathroom sink – as if this was what their casual conversation usually consisted of. “If our plan works out, this is going to be big. We need you clear-headed, yeah?”

Roy froze where he’d been towelling his face. “What?” he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice, trying to fake ignorance as well as he could.

Jason met his eyes in the mirror, his expression grave. Then a corner of his lips tilted up in half a smile, something almost pitying, and he wiped his hands, as he said, “My mother was a junkie, Roy Wonder, and your hands won’t quit shaking.”

On the morning Roy ran out, Jason simply dragged him out of the haze and pushed him under the showerhead as if he had done this a thousand times before; and Roy never refilled.

As it turned out, all he had needed was someone who cared enough to say _Don’t_.

* * *

**now**

“What’s the problem?” Roy asked, placing a hand on Dick’s lower back just long enough to let Dick know that he was there. Dick turned, a question in his eyes, but he waited for Roy to explain, and didn’t ask when Roy chose not to. Instead he gestured with his chin at a specific section of the crowd; Roy craned his neck to see. Domini was just wrapping up his speech and the necklace hadn’t been unveiled yet. Roy saw a head of un-humanlike, shimmering rose-gold hair, did a double-take, and stared.

The lady was dressed in a deep green gown that reminded him of leaves in summer light. Her hair attracted a lot of attention, but she either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because her eyes were trained on the stage. “Tell me she is who I think she is,” Dick said.

Roy met his eyes. “Wait, how did you know— you’ve never seen— she doesn’t allow photographs of herself to be taken—”

“I did my homework.” Dick shrugged, noncommittal. “Besides, I had a hunch. Talk to her, you know her.”

“What!?” Roy flushed red. “Um, I had _one_ conversation with her when we were kids, why would she remember me?”

“You’re a memorable guy.” Dick nudged him forward. “Talk to her, I want to know why she’s here. I doubt she was invited. How would you even send invitations there, anyway… If my guess is right…”

“Me? Talk to _royalty_? I’m not Garth, babe, come on.”

“ _Go,_ ” Dick insisted, pushing him. “You’re all charm, trust me, it’ll be alright.”

“Fine, then you’re coming with me,” Roy said, dragging Dick along by the hand before he could protest. They reached the lady just as the lights began to dim – it was almost time to lift the veil. Roy stood there, at a loss for what he was supposed to say to catch her attention, when she turned, and saw him first. A faint glimmer of recognition in her hazel eyes, and she smiled. “Young Brave.”

“… _Kong_.” Roy smiled back at _the princess of Lawei_.

She held a hand out to him as if the gesture was foreign to her – which it _was_ , Roy remembered, feeling sheepish – sliding a casual glance at Dick, by Roy’s side, and then back. “Not so young anymore.”

“Or brave, to be honest.” Roy chuckled obligingly and took her hand. He was trying to think of what to say next when she broke the silence for him, lifting a hand to her ear, pressing, and then whispering words in a different language. Comms, Roy realised, only mildly surprised. “It’s nothing sinister,” she said in her slow voice, smiling. “I’m telling my people outside that you are not enemies.”

Shit, was the place surrounded? Roy stole a glance at Dick, who had stepped forward, a polite but clinical smile on his face. “We aren’t,” he said. And then, “Are _you_?”

Her smile fell by the faintest hint. “Old friend.” She turned to Roy (and wow, they’d just played tag, like, _once_ , not that Roy wasn’t flattered), “Is it customary for men in your country to talk to women they haven’t yet been introduced to?”

Roy coughed. “Oh, uh, sorry. This is Dick. My partner.”

“Partner in what?”

“Fighting crime,” Dick answered before Roy could. “Your Highness, please don’t take offense, but – we need to ask you a few questions in the interest of preventing a possible robbery tonight.” (Police training had been useful for something after all, Roy thought.) “I’m sure you’re aware of it, but the item that’s being donated to this museum tonight is—”

“And if I don’t wish to comply with your… questioning?” The princess asked, something sharp in her eyes now, though her smile remained intact. “Will you insist?”

Roy couldn’t understand the triumphant look on Dick’s face. “No, of course not,” he said. “I think you just answered. Your Highness… _you’re_ the one who’s after the necklace, aren’t you?”

Now her smile disappeared completely. One of her fingers reached for the bracelet on her other wrist, and Roy noted the crudely-shaped charm: a bow and arrow. He had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just a harmless decoration. “I’m sorry?” she asked, careful.

“Oh, no, please. I’m not the enemy, as you said.” Dick’s voice was placating, classic Grayson-charm cranked to the max. “You’re stealing it _because_ of what’s inside it, aren’t you? That – thing, whatever it is was never _meant_ to come with the necklace. You’ve been hiring people to steal it back to prevent violating your custom of never asking for a gift to be returned, isn’t that right?”

Roy blinked. Dick had pieced this together from one night’s reading of what limited articles and books there existed on Lawei? …Huh. “My friends and I, we’re in charge of, uh, preventing things like this. So, we’re on the same side,” Dick continued. “Can we help you steal this thing and take it back to your kingdom?”

Roy almost envied her innocence – her entire demeanour changed, immediately put at ease. Maybe it had something to do with the non-confrontational nature of her tribe… or maybe her world just _wasn’t_ as messed up as theirs, maybe hers was a world where it was easier to take people at their word. “Who are these friends of yours? Are you aware of what you’re up against?” She asked.

Dick said something into the comms. Roy could see Constantine and Zatanna make their way over to them through the crowd. “Actually, no,” Dick answered politely. “Could you tell us? —This is Zatanna, and this is John Constantine. They’re experts in the magical arts.”

“So am I,” the princess returned.

John cut in. “Your Highness, there have been a string of crimes occurring in and around Star City ever since that necklace touched American soil. Robberies, things like that. My job is to—”

“No murders?” She interrupted.

He shook his head. “Not as far as I know.”

“Good.” The princess nodded. “Then it hasn’t been able to communicate with its owner. I am not too late.” She released her bracelet. “A spirit of greed resides inside of that necklace. It tempts people, to desire things – wealth, material possessions – with an almost insane craving, so much so that they would gladly kill to satiate their needs. I’m sorry that I was not watchful enough. I’ve allowed it to infect your people.”

“Well, you see, I’m an exorcist.” John tilted his head as if even _he_ was dubious about the credibility of this statement. “…Of sorts. I only need this demon’s name, and I can—”

“Its name? It is called _U Thlen_ ,” the princess answered. “And no so-called exorcist who has learned his art from mere Celtic traditions can destroy it. Let me take the necklace back to Lawei.”

John shrugged. “Alright, fair enough.”

“Zatanna.” Dick turned to her. “You know that classic trick? Bunny in a box, cover it with a veil, lift the veil and _voilà_ , it’s gone?”

Zatanna slowly smiled. “Like the back of my hand.”

Roy snorted. It looked like the case had been wrapped up, he thought, watching Zatanna surreptitiously lift her arms just as Domini was saying, “Without further ado—”

He felt his phone vibrate against his leg. Absently, he reached into his pocket and fished it out… and stopped cold at the words on the screen. _Lover,_ the text said, and only one person had ever called him that. _If you don’t want to see another home of yours go up in flames, come._

Attached to the text was an image – a picture of the fitness centre; Dick’s residence.

* * *

**then**

“—And this fucking paedophile, right— this fucking waste of good air, starts talking religion to me, stammering some shit about how I was going to condemn my soul if I put a bullet in his brain. So I said to him – I said, you know what, my perverted padré, maybe when you get to heaven you can ask _God_ to punish you instead, then. _Ooh, Daddy, I have sinned. Smite me, Daddy_.”

Roy doubled over laughing, which he maybe shouldn’t have, but Jason had a way of turning the most gruesome situations into the most fucked-up humour. Jay pushed one of Roy’s flailing legs away, just when it came close to hitting him in the face, and grinned. “Anyway, the kid’s safe now.”

“…Red Angel.” Roy smiled up at him from where he was sprawled on his back across the bed, Jason sitting opposite him, apparently content to just appreciate the view. The comfortable silence between them faded into something mellow, and before Roy could stop himself, he blurted out, “I had a daughter, you know.”

Jason stared, his grin turning uncertain.

Roy turned his head to the side. He didn’t like to talk about the past with Jason, and Jay didn’t like to talk about the past with him. Their apartment was supposed to be exclusive from the world outside. Nothing real but what went on in there; no dead daughters, no dead robins. Just them. “…Lian,” Roy whispered. He hadn’t said her name out loud in two years.

“…I know,” Jason murmured. “I heard about what happened.”

“Keeping tabs on me, Jay-bird?” Roy grinned half-heartedly. “Or was it… stalking? I always knew you had a crush on me when you were a little munchkin. _I can see it in your eyes_ – precocious flirting, am I right?”

Jason chuckled, but that sounded hesitant as well.

Roy swallowed. “…She, um. She was alone, you know. When she died. Mia – she’s kind of, like, my sister, but we aren’t—”

“I know Mia,” Jason cut him off. “Go on.”

Roy nodded. “Mia was supposed to be watching her. But she…” He closed his eyes. “I still dream about it, sometimes. …My baby. She was only five. Probably scared witless when she heard the explosion. Then the walls start crumbling around her, right? And she’s alone. She’s fucking alone. Calling for help, but no one’s coming. Calling for her— for her father.” His voice shook. “Did she hate me, in her last moments? Under all that rubble, did she—”

And then like someone had upturned a bucket of ice water over his head, he stopped cold, realising who it was that he was narrating all of this to. He sat up with a start, staring at Jason like he had never seen him before. Jason turned away, but Roy had caught the flash of something vulnerable in his eyes before he did. “Jay-bird,” Roy said, urgency in his voice, as the parallels fully settled in his mind. “People, people kept telling me that it was quick. That Lian died quick. They kept saying…” He leaned forward, desperation almost overwhelming him. “Jason.” He let out a shaking breath. “My little girl… did she suffer?”

Silence. Jason closed his eyes, and visibly swallowed. “…Yeah,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Yeah.” Roy felt an all-consuming numbness envelop him. Oh, he thought.

Then he felt a warm hand briefly touch his. “Roy.” He glanced up. Jason met his eyes, and Roy sucked in a breath at the rare emotion that made them shine. “…She didn’t hate you.”

Roy felt his lips tremble and hot tears stream down his cheeks, and was finally released.

* * *

**now**

Roy ignored the skidding tires of the car he’d hotwired from the museum parking lot, as he brought it to a screeching stop. He didn’t bother to check if the lock on the gym’s front entrance had been broken into – of course it had – and barrelled through it as fast as he could.

“Jade!?” he yelled. “Jade, I know it’s you! Come out here!”

No answer. Maybe he _should_ have asked Dick to come with him, instead of disappearing while Dick’s attention had been on Zatanna taking the necklace back. But Roy hadn’t been sure that not coming alone would not have escalated things, pissed his ex-girlfriend off more.

Besides, a part of him hadn’t wanted Dick around in case he failed, and the place _did_ go up in flames. He knew he was a screw-up – he just never wanted to feel like one around Dick, because he never had before.

“Jade?” He walked past the gym… and into their living space. Everything was shrouded in darkness. He turned the lights on one by one, a hand on one of the handles settled in his knife-holster, just in case.

He reached the bedroom. “Hello, lover.” She didn’t even wait for him to turn on the lights. She was sitting on their bed, one knee draped over the other like she was entitled to being there. Roy pulled out a knife.

“What do you want?”

Jade uncurled herself like a snake. She stood up, pure hatred in her deep green eyes. “You, of course. Always.” And then she snarled. “You let my daughter die, Roy.”

She pounced.

He struggled to block her attacks with his good arm and a throwing-knife, while simultaneously avoiding her poison-tipped nails. “You let her die!” Jade screeched. “I trusted you! _Lian_ , Roy! How could you!”

“I—” Roy ducked a swipe – “Jade, _listen to me_ —”

“I will _not_. You son of a bitch, you let her die, and you think you’re entitled to _happiness_? You think you can hide in the arms of your lover and Lian will just go away?” He managed to tackle her to the ground— she fought back with a hard kick. “Oh, did you think that I wouldn’t find out about him? I did! I was on to you the moment you made the mistake of coming to Bludhaven. I couldn’t believe it at first, I had to see where you lived with my own two eyes. Your lover’s apartment, so full of _peace_. While my daughter is six feet under the cold, hard ground!”

 _Apartment._ Jade wasn’t talking about the fitness centre. _Coming to Bludhaven_. Jade had been here. Waiting? Or just coincidence? She pinned him down. He avoided her nails just in time.

The pieces fell into place. Jason’s voice in his head, saying, _Something in Bludhaven. She went rogue when he sent her down here, he’s not sure why_. And Dick’s, explaining what had happened to Tim’s ankle. _Said he saw someone entering the apartment and wanted to investigate? He must have only seen you. I swear, paranoia runs in the family._

 _Well, Jay-bird,_ he thought, _That’s why._

“You’re starting to realise it, aren’t you?” Jade taunted. “That’s right. I _have_ been waiting. Torturing you, so you _suffer_ like she suffered. And tonight, you’ll die like she died.” He cried out, when she scratched at his shoulder. “Did it hurt? Your shoulder? When you touched Lian’s frame, did it hurt like she did?”

Roy remembered running his thumb over the picture from the box, remembered a sharp pain. He’d assumed it was from the broken glass. “S-Since when…”

“Ha. Since the day that you made the unfortunate decision to resurface. I’ve been tracking your every movement. I wanted you to feel it where it _counts_.” She dodged the knives that he flung. Whatever her nails had had on them, it was making him sluggish, screwing with his aim. “I’m _very_ fond of that particular strain of my poisons. It aggravates your already ruined nerves. I have more right here.” She held up a hand, flashing her nails at him. “Want to see hell again?”

He was starting to feel dizzy. With little to no difficulty, she held him down, with two hands wrapped around his throat. “That’s right, lover, just give in,” she hissed. “You know you deserve this. For Lian. You know you can have no right to love and happiness as long as our daughter’s dead because of you.”

 _Fight back,_ Roy screamed in his mind, but his arm just didn’t seem to want to. Maybe she was right, he started to consider – fuck, was this a hallucinogen? – _maybe_ …

She twisted her grip. Involuntarily, he turned his head. From his position on the floor, beneath the bedroom window, Roy could see a glint of blue lit up by the moonlight: the jar Dick had placed on the window-sill, his Christmas present.

_I want you to have a shit ton of reasons to keep going._

Roy struggled. “…I… know… Jade…” he gasped out. “I know… it hurts… I know… it makes no sense… but, I…” He managed to use his leg to flip them over, holding her down, coughing. “I know I should have been there for her. But I also know that I couldn’t have possibly been watching her every single minute of every single day! I’m not Superman. I wish she was here… I’ll never stop wishing she was here. But I forgive myself. Jade, that’s allowed. You can _forgive yourself_.”

The door burst open. “Roy!” Dick came barrelling into the room, in his uniform already. Jade used the momentary distraction to kick Roy off of herself but she was immediately captured by the second figure hurtling into the room – Jason. “Try it, lady,” he taunted, voice distorted as it usually was when he was under that mask, already holding a gun to her forehead. “Those nails don’t work well with Kevlar. Or leather, and I do love wearing my jacket.” His voice dropped, pure ice now. “Black Mask wants a word or a body, _Cheshire_.”

“Roy… Roy, are you okay?” Dick helped him up; his legs still felt weak. “Did she—”

“Look out!” Roy yelled at Jason, but it was too late – Jade expertly twisted out of his grip, and threw something at his face. It exploded in a puff of smoke and – _oh_. That hadn’t been smoke. It was gas.

Quick as lightning, Dick hurled Roy bodily out the open window. Roy could see him snap a mask on just as the gas filled the room, as he hit the grass hard; that _uncanny_ utility belt. Jason would be fine, too, with the Red Hood get-up. Roy had been the only one in real danger.

He turned his comm on, frantic. “Dick!? Dick, are you okay—”

“We’re fine!” Dick coughed. And then, not addressed to Roy, “She’s getting away— _JASON, RUN, GET OUT_ —”

It was the last thing Roy heard before the explosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Jason hasn’t met Artemis and Bizarro yet. He probably will… if he survives.
> 
> [This](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/95/57/b5/9557b5649043f134b1e8211e38afe9f6.jpg) is what a Khasi _paila_ , a coral-and-gold necklace looks like. The Khasi tribe is one of many hill tribes in the northeast of India (and Bangladesh). _Lawei_ is a Khasi word that literally translates to “ideal” or “future”.
> 
> Roy addresses the princess as _Kong_ which means “Miss”, since there’s no real equivalent to “Your Highness” in Khasi. The _Thlen_ is one of the spirits of materialism that the tribe doesn’t worship – spirits aren’t really divided into “good” or “evil” ones per se but the ones that preside over material wealth and desire are generally to be avoided. Nobody knows what the _Thlen_ is supposed to look like, but it’s usually described as serpentine (I like to think it’s just a twisting shadow).
> 
> People who invite the _Thlen_ into their homes are known as _menshohnoh_ , or… well, “murderers” (literally “you [masculine] will now kill”). Mainly because the _Thlen_ grants money and wealth, but, in exchange, its believers have to gift it with a strand of hair, or a piece of cloth snipped off of someone’s outfit, which it then uses to suck out the souls of the people from whom the hair or cloth was taken – a phenomenon which manifests itself as physical illness for the victims. And, yeah, the victims generally die.
> 
> On that cheery note, please leave kudos, bookmark, or comment! Maybe also follow me (anelderling) on Tumblr?


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Oh, look. For once I have nothing to say in this space. Huh.
> 
> Onwards?

**now**

Through the haze and sluggishness that fogged up his head, Dick tried to make sense of where he was. His heart was racing, but he couldn’t figure out why. In his mind’s eye, vague memories clamoured for his attention: he saw himself standing in front of a stage, remembered feeling triumphant about what was happening up on it. Remembered turning – he’d wanted to share the moment with someone. But he couldn’t find him, hadn’t he been right there a moment ago? He looked around, vaguely worried; he tried calling. Dial tone in his ear. No answer.

Now he was talking to someone dressed like a waiter. The worry had evolved into full-blown panic. _He wasn’t with you? You’re sure? Where is he, then?_ He fished out his phone, used it to hack into a different phone. There was a message: _Lover_ …

 _Hold on,_ the waiter said. _The tracker on my target was just activated again_. _Dick, it’s your_ —

 _It’s my house,_ he whispered himself, staring at the image on his phone.

They exchanged a look.

Ran.

Dick groaned as an echo of pain rippled through his legs. He remembered… chaos… a woman… he was scared for somebody’s safety… a cloud, he pushed someone out a window…

Three successive little beeps in his ear, the realisation of what they meant following in less than a second – he turned, horror filling him, shoved his companion forward, _Not Jason not again not Jason please_ —

His eyes flew open, and he struggled for air. “Dick!” A panicked voice shouted. Dick’s vision was blurry and rapidly getting crowded by black dots again, but somebody snapped an oxygen mask onto his nose and mouth – and he could finally breathe. Through his clouded vision, he could see a concerned face hovering over him, haloed by a blur of red hair. It was enough to calm his heart for a moment, comfort and relief easing through him, but then a hand brushed against his cheek as it reached to pull the mask off again, and the bubble burst.

These hands were callused in a different way.

Dick felt his stomach plummet. He felt unsteady, like a kid on his first day of school all over again, longing for home, his parents, familiar rooms, familiar faces. “Where’s Roy?” he managed to get out, even though it hurt because his throat was so dry. His heart was racing again, making his chest ache.

“Calm down, Dick. It’s alright.” The voice was gentle, but it still didn’t help. “Roy? He’s asleep. …Finally. You remember what happened last night? The explosion? Roy had one of his trick arrows on hand, managed to contain the blast so it caused minimal damage… you escaped with a knee fracture, and a minor concussion from the falling debris. You’ve been out for hours. Roy refused to leave your side. Jay _just_ managed to convince him—”

But the words started to sound farther and farther away, like he was listening to them from underwater, and then disappeared completely.

The second time he came around, familiar voices were arguing with each other in raised whispers.

“—It’s only the pain medication, Master Bruce, side-effects, entirely normal—”

“—He’s been restless—”

But it still wasn’t the presence that he was longing for, and he felt his eyes burn as he rasped, “Where—”

A strong hand covered his eyes. “Sleep.”

And when it was _that_ voice giving him an order, Dick had no choice but to listen, so sleep he did.

The persistent throbbing in his head woke him again, hours later. Groaning, he forced his eyes open, sucking in a sharp breath at the instant pain radiating from his knee. Right, hadn’t someone said something about a fracture a while ago? There was also a sense of disorientation nagging at his mind, like something was _wrong_. He turned his head to the side. His eyes fell on the head of red hair buried next to him on the blankets, and the uneasiness immediately quelled.

“…Hey.” It came out like a scratchy whisper. He nudged at Roy’s cheek, where it was buried in his arms, until Roy shifted, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked up at Dick, a little dazed, and then sat up straight in his chair.

“Robbie!” Roy grabbed Dick’s hand so tightly that it almost hurt, but Dick didn’t want him to let go. “You’re finally awake— I was so worried— God, wouldn’t that just be typical of my luck, right when you finally agree to go out with me, I end up losing you, too—”

Dick opened his mouth to answer, but his lips and his throat were too dry. “Water?”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah…” Roy reached for a glass on the bedside table and helped Dick tilt his head up, using his arm as support. Dick lapped at the liquid gratefully. “All good?” He nodded. Roy put the glass away.

“I’m okay,” Dick rasped, trying to reassure Roy, who still looked on the brink of a panic attack. But then a twinge from his knee made him flinch. “…Well, I’m not, but you’re okay, so I’m okay. Is Jason okay?”

Roy laughed in spite of himself. “We’re all okay. You pushed him out right on time.” He reached a hand out to touch Dick’s face, thumb on his cheek, moving gently. “…Alfred says you wouldn’t stop asking for me while you were half-conscious.”

“Is that so?” Dick let out an amused breath. It didn’t matter how many years they had between them now – it still made him feel a little embarrassed. As if his priorities had been satisfied, now that Roy was here, though, it finally occurred to him to wonder where he was. “…Are we at the manor?” he asked, surveying the room. Yup, he thought. But this wasn’t his bed. It was Bruce’s. “…Why…”

“Partly because Jay-bird’s in yours right now, partly, I think, because Bats wants to quench his guilty conscience about not even knowing that the two of you were in trouble,” Roy answered like he had anticipated the question.

Oh. Not that Dick was complaining. The room smelled like Bruce – like home, and safety.

Stupid parental pheromones, he thought.

“Careful. You’re badmouthing Bruce in his own house?”

“Fuck it,” Roy mumbled, and leaned forward in his chair, resting his head on Dick’s stomach. “Dying in your arms? Sounds like heaven.” Dick reached down and carefully ran his fingers through Roy’s hair. His heart had finally calmed down.

“Did the mission at least go as planned?” he asked, mildly surprised that this was an afterthought. He’d left the museum without even telling Zatanna and Constantine. Roy nodded without lifting his head.

“Ollie says thanks. Also, that he owes you an apology – I get the feeling that I don’t want to know, do I?” Dick smiled at that, and said nothing. “Constantine left you a number, said to call when you were okay? You’re dating _me_ , now, Dickie-bird, quit going around stealing everybody’s hearts, huh.”

“You’ve got _some_ nerve, saying that to me.” Dick laughed half-heartedly. He paused, his tone turning serious. “…What _did_ happen with Jason? Are you alright?”

Roy smiled up at him wistfully. “…I’ll forgive him. Someday.”

Dick hummed, slowing his fingers down, so that he was now petting Roy’s head more than anything else, really. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I know this drill, Robbie. People get sick of me. It happens. I’m always stupid enough to hope that it won’t happen, and then… it does. Story of my life.” He turned his head, Dick’s hand landing on his cheek. “…You’re the only one…” He paused, laughing under his breath. “…Nothing. I love you, Dick.”

“Don’t do that to me again,” Dick whispered. “Don’t just disappear without telling me. I never know if you’re in trouble or you just need some time to yourself. I get scared, Roy, okay?”

Roy nodded, his eyes apologetic. “I figured Jade was my problem to deal with.”

“Aren’t you always telling me that you’re there for me, that I never have to go it alone? So – why on earth would you think that that doesn’t go both ways, my treasure?” Dick cupped his face. “Your problems _are_ my problems.”

Roy gave him a long, wondering look. Then he closed his eyes, smiling. “Okay, this is starting to sound too close to _for better or worse_ for my comfort.” He opened them again. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t just apologise.”

“Then what?”

“Kiss me.”

Roy huffed out an amused breath, and did.

“…Uh, sorry, am I interrupting?” A familiar voice asked from somewhere in the direction of the doorway. Reluctantly, Dick let Roy pull away, and turned his head to see who it was.

Oh. “…Babs.” Dick felt his eyes grow wide.

The sight of her in her wheelchair, hair pulled back into a messy bun, eyes calculating, triggered his memories and he finally realised who it was who’d been by his side when he had first woken up in this room. She cleared her throat. “Roy, Alfred wanted you. Downstairs. I’ll, um. See to things here.”

Dick couldn’t help sliding a surreptitious glance at Roy – curious to know how the two of them got along with each other. Barbara and Wally were friends, just as much as he and Dick were, but Roy had only ever met her once or twice before.

Every trace of vulnerability that had been on Roy’s face had disappeared, replaced by his usual, genial half-a-grin. “Not like that, I hope,” he joked. He turned to Dick again. “Be right back.”

 _Hurry back,_ Dick wanted to say, except he didn’t, afraid to sound like a child, even if that _was_ what he felt like at the moment. Babs caught his eyes, just as Roy was passing her, and he gave her a cautious little smile. “…Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Does this mean we’re talking again?”

She wheeled into the room, stopping short of the bed, and sighing. “Only you, Dick, would ask that after you had half the family worried sick for a whole day.” She shook her head. “How petty do you think I am?”

“It’s not how petty you are so much as how bad _I_ screwed up…”

“We are. Talking.” She gave him a weak smile. “It’s kind of hard to stay mad at someone you spent half the night panicking over.”

“Thank you.” Dick smiled back.

Barbara reached over and helped him adjust his pillows so he could sit up comfortably. “So,” she said, “Roy, huh.”

“…Roy,” Dick agreed, talking to his knees. When he met Barbara’s eyes again, he couldn’t help laughing. “Do you have to look _that_ relieved? Way to kill a guy’s ego.”

Her eyes grew wider, and then she chuckled into her fist. “No! I mean— yeah, I _am_ relieved, just not in the way that you think.” She gave him a fond look, shaking her head. “I’m just glad you found somebody, Dick. If I can be honest… it was hard, watching you wait for me. Knowing I was hurting you. Not being able to do anything about it.”

She was talking about more than the silent treatment that they’d been giving each other ever since Dick returned to Gotham and he knew it. He returned her smile, bittersweet. “Was I pushy?”

“Not… in the way that you’re probably thinking,” Barbara said again. Then she slapped on a forced smile. “I’m not here to get you down with that stuff, though. You need anything? Water?”

“Babs.” Dick gently took her wrist. “We haven’t been talking in months. I think I need to hear this as much as you need to say it.”

She sighed, curling her hand around his. “…No sugar-coating?”

“None.”

“You asked for it.” She took in a deep breath. “You weren’t… pushy… in the sense of you disrespecting my boundaries. You would never. But… you’re a great guy, Dick. I mean, a really, really, great guy. I… I guess I, sometimes, feel a lot of pressure to, to sort of live up to that, you know? To not disappoint you.” She gave him a tight smile. “Which hasn’t been easy ever since we… ever since we went wrong, so to speak. I mean – wow, this is hard to explain…”

“You mean you wanted to turn me down for good, but there was the guilt to think about? You felt too sorry for me to do it?” Dick ventured.

“…Well, when you put it like _that_ , I sound like a jerk, don’t I.” Barbara laughed half-heartedly. “Yeah. Yes. Essentially. So I’m relieved. You found somebody.”

Dick nodded slowly, ignoring the sharp pang in his chest. Barbara squeezed his hand, reassuring. “I don’t mean to be harsh, Dick. It’s not you. I swear. It’s just ever since _this_ happened…” She glanced down, at her lap. “…Things have changed. You know that. And I think… I think you were always in love with a version of me that doesn’t exist, anymore. I’m not— Dick, _this_ —” Tapping at the arms of her wheelchair, “This was about, reclaiming my life, everything that was taken from me. So I couldn’t, I _couldn’t_ go back to being that version anymore, understand…? I couldn’t be Bat-anything. I couldn’t be Commissioner Gordon’s sob story. I couldn’t even be Dick Grayson’s girlfriend. Not if… if that meant—” She clicked her tongue, in frustration. “Do you understand what I’m…”

Dick stared at her for a long time, letting the words sink in. _Reclaiming my life, everything that was taken from me_. He did understand. He understood perfectly. Someone – reaching into your life, and taking away any sense of autonomy you could have had, making you feel powerless – violated. “You know, Babs?” he whispered. “For the first time, I… think I actually do.”

“I know I was hard on you,” Barbara continued. “I wanted, more than anything, to prove myself— to prove to be _more_ than what he did to me. You were trying to help, and I just wanted… not to need anybody, not even you. And, worse, a part of me was starting to believe that— I was holding you back. That you were _settling_ for me, and I started seeing Kory— and all those women as threats, then blaming you for it. It was never you, Dick. I’m just different, now. We can’t go back to the way we were. We’d be terrible for each other. Genuinely, we would.”

Something like understanding passed between them when their eyes met. Barbara laughed under her breath. “…You really do get it, don’t you.”

Dick nodded. “We were good in theory.”

“We were.” Barbara let go of his hand. “But things changed. And that… Dick, it doesn’t _have_ to be a bad thing.”

“…No,” he agreed, smiling softly.

She returned his smile for a quiet moment. And then, like an afterthought, she whispered, “Are you happy with him?”

His smile grew by the faintest hint. He nodded, closing his eyes. “He’s my everything.”

When he glanced up again, Barbara had brought her hands to her neck, pulling at the chain there. “Here, then.” She gently slipped the ring off, placing it in Dick’s hand. “Guess you’ll need this.”

Dick stared at it for a quiet second. Then, he burst out laughing. “He’s not the marrying type. He’s so, _so_ far from the marrying type.” Still chuckling, he pushed the ring back towards Barbara. “Keep it, Babs. We can’t return to the past, but… that doesn’t mean we can’t have reminders of it. Right?”

She hesitated at first, then sighed, and slid the ring back onto the chain, shaking her head, in the way that meant Dick had just done something equal parts silly _and_ endearing. “…It _was_ a good past,” she conceded.

“The best.” Dick smiled.

He leaned forward, and kissed her on the forehead. Nobody had told him that burning bridges would create this much warmth and light.

Later – after Barbara had left and Dick had dozed off again, sleepy from the painkillers – Jason wandered in, looking, for all the world, like it had been a complete accident. He gave Dick a hug that somehow said all that he couldn’t have done using his words. Dick answered him anyway. “He couldn’t lose you again,” he said – an explanation or an excuse, he couldn’t decide. Anyway, _he_ was easier to admit to than _we_.

Jason scoffed, pulling back, the brief emotion gone from his eyes again. “…The fact that you think you’re more expendable to him than I am says all I need to know about where you and Bruce are at with each other right now.”

Dick nudged his head. “Brat.”

From Jason, he learned why he hadn’t seen either Bruce or Damian since he had regained consciousness – some mission or the other. Tim and Duke weren’t around, either, but Cass wandered in every now and then, her presence silent but dependable. (“Doesn’t it creep you out?” Roy had asked, when Cass had left the room after sitting in the chair by the bed, doing nothing except giving Dick his bottle of water or his phone before he could even ask for them. Dick smiled. Roy wouldn’t understand.)

Before he left – and Dick had the distinct impression that he was _leaving_ leaving – Jason pushed the chair that he’d been sitting on back, stood and said almost nonchalantly, “Take care of Roy, Dick, yeah?”

Dick arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know what you let go of, Jay.”

Jason didn’t turn around, already at the door. “Trust me,” he half-whispered, “I do.”

Still later, Alfred came in to chastise him, for not resting – it wasn’t Dick’s fault that the news had gotten out somehow, and now he was getting well-wishes left and right. Wally had threatened to come over, but Alfred had intercepted the call from downstairs, and given him a firm _no_. Which had only been possible because Alfred had taken his cell-phone and Dick had had to use the telephone in Bruce’s room in the first place, but, well.

He had given Constantine his promised phone call (“Can I call you John?” he’d asked, because the name was an awkward mouthful – “With a face like that, love, you can call me Rita,” John had answered) and then the phone was finally silent for a merciful couple of hours. Roy shook his head, amused. “You ever consider running for president?” he teased.

“I hear there’s another universe where that went very, very badly,” Dick answered, laughing.

Roy laughed along. He climbed into bed with Dick, Dick scooting over to give him room. “I guess this means no heroics for a while,” Roy said, nodding at the cast around Dick’s knee.

Dick groaned. “Don’t remind me. Alfred said I should give it a month at the very least. I’ll go insane.”

“…Well… I mean.” Roy rubbed at the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. “We could, uh, make the most of it? I mean, you don’t _have_ to be recuperating in Gotham or Bludhaven exclusively, right? We could go somewhere. You and me. Alone. Together.” He cleared his throat. “Would give them time to finish fixing up the damage at your place, too.”

Dick leaned into his arm, smiling up at him softly. “Make up for lost time?”

“That’s a _lot_ of time you’re talking about, Dickie-bird.” Roy chuckled. “But, yeah, I guess. It could be a start. What do you say?”

Dick considered it. The time lost that he could have spent in Bludhaven, doing something useful, would weigh on his conscience, for certain. But Roy was giving him that wicked smile of his, and Dick knew what it meant, that Roy _would_ convince him to give in to what he wanted to do instead of what he was supposed to do, like he always had, like when they’d been kids. Dick sighed, fond and exasperated. “…Alright. Where did you have in mind?”

Roy hummed. “Don’t know. Paris? Been a while.”

Dick shook his head. “Not too far from home. I might not be able to join in the action, but I don’t want to be out of the loop in case something happens to someone I know.”

“You’re a tough customer, aren’t you.” Roy thought about it. Dick watched his eyes out of the corner of his own, catching the way they lit up like he’d had an idea, feeling the hesitance in Roy’s shoulders, and the way he worried at his lip. “…What?” Dick asked, curious.

“Nothing.” Roy actually turned vaguely red; Dick almost laughed. “It’s— probably stupid, but, um— there’s this— it’s a flower shop, in Seattle? Two bedroom apartment above it. Dinah still pays the lease, she told me once – though I’ll have to ask again to be sure. I don’t know, it’s nice. So’s the neighbourhood, but that’s only because Ollie and Dinah cleaned up everything that made it _not_ nice, I think.” He gave Dick a nervous look. “What do you think?”

Dick smiled, pushing closer to Roy, safe in the circle of his arms, head resting against his chest. “I think it sounds like heaven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Nope, still got nothing to say here. Kudos, bookmarks, comments, subscriptions, pretty please? Also follow me (anelderling) on Tumblr?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback takes place immediately after the Post-Infinite Crisis One Year Later event, so somewhere after the one in chapter five and before the ones in chapter seven.
> 
> Onwards!

**then**

It was strange – standing there, at the front door of the little house, pressing the doorbell, waiting for it to be acknowledged. Dick caught himself wondering if things would have been different, had he stayed. Probably. He would have been able to step inside without the bell, or use the backdoor, at least, maybe even the window to Roy’s bedroom.

In some roundabout way, it was a fitting metaphor for where they stood with each other, now that Dick had ruined it. No one had answered the door yet. Dick sighed, glancing up, at the clouds littering the sky. He didn’t know how to be just friends with Roy. He never had.

 _Maybe you shouldn’t have left him, then._ Inside his pockets, Dick’s hands curled into fists. _Coward._

The door finally swung open by the slightest inch, and a curious little face peered up at him through the crack.

It shouldn’t have hit him so hard, but it did. Dick dropped to one knee, giving her a little smile. “Hi, Lian,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Remember me?”

He could still recall exactly how she had felt in his arms, the first time he had ever held her. So small, so vulnerable. _A piece of Roy,_ he remembered thinking. _I am holding a piece of Roy._ He’d been the one to rock her in his arms and sing her to sleep when Roy had been recovering from the poison flowing through his veins. He had been the one to carry her over to him when he had woken up. _Roy Harper, I’d like to formally introduce you to your daughter,_ he’d said, the helpless smile on Roy’s face and the tears of joy welling up in his eyes echoing in Dick’s own heart.

He’d pretended. It was wrong, but… handing Lian over to Roy, standing over them and kissing her on the top of her head, he’d pretended. _Ours._

But she wasn’t, not really, and there was no reason for Lian to think of him as— well. No reason for her to remember the voice which had sung her to sleep, with French lullabies. The nails that she used to love painting and sticking beads and glitter on because _your fingers are so long and pretty, Uncle Dick_. Children’s memories were fickle, Dick told himself firmly, shoving down the hope that pulled at his heart regardless.

Then Lian gave him a wide smile and flung the door open, and it melted.

“Uncle Dick!” She leapt into his arms. He caught her, holding tight as he stood up. “…Hi,” he repeated, relief flooding him.

“Where’ve you been? Daddy said—”

As if on cue, another voice called from inside the house, “Lian? Who is it?” and Dick had to close his eyes, overwhelmed. It still sounded the same. Deep and half-rasping and perfect. _Roy._

“Daddy, Daddy, look who came!” Lian jumped down, and yanked Dick forward by the hand. He laughed even as he stumbled, letting her lead him into the house – and past the living room, into the kitchen. Roy had his back to them, attention on the microwave. At the sound of her voice, he turned. And froze, his mouth falling open.

“…Dick…” And then he said it again, like he couldn’t believe it, smiling broadly. “Dick, what the hell! I thought you were on some kind of family vacation or something?”

“I just got back.” Dick returned his smile. _Yesterday, actually, but I had to see you._ And then he couldn’t think of what to say next. Roy’s presence was still as overwhelming to him as always – his voice louder than Dick was used to with his family, his body large, his eyes bright and completely unguarded, letting Dick read every single emotion that they conveyed. A persistent beeping saved Dick from having to come up with something to fill the silence, and he laughed as he said, “Roy, the microwave…”

Roy swore, turning back around to salvage whatever he was making. “Give me a minute?”

“He’ll be in my room!” Lian announced, and dragged Dick back out of the kitchen.

He listened with interest as she filled him in on all that he had missed out on in her life for the past year – school, softball, why there was a miniature set of bow and arrows hanging on the wall (Grandpa Ollie was to blame, but Daddy liked to teach her, too). And then his mind started to wander, though he still nodded and smiled for her sake. There was so much he wanted to say to Roy. _You look well. I’ve missed you so much. There still aren’t any pictures of you and somebody special around here. Can I hope, maybe?_

But when Roy appeared at the door of Lian’s bedroom, all of the words died in his throat again, and Dick could only smile.

“Sorry about that.” Roy returned it sheepishly.

Lian ran to her father and tugged at his shirt. “Daddy, can I use your phone?”

“What for?” Roy narrowed his eyes in exaggerated suspicion. “Ashley again? Don’t you two have homework to—”

“ _Please,_ Daddy.” Lian gave him a look that Dick knew Roy wouldn’t be able to say no to, and he hid a smile. “It’s _about_ the homework, I swear!”

Roy sighed. “Alright, but if you take longer than an hour again—”

“I won’t, you’re the best!” Lian answered in a rush, swiping the phone from his hands before Roy had even fully pulled it out of his jeans pocket.

Dick and Roy watched her sprint off in the direction of the living room, amused. “She’s growing up so fast,” Dick mused. “You’ve done so well with her, Roy.”

“Please.” Roy scoffed, shaking his head, as he joined Dick on the edge of Lian’s bed. “She calls the shots in this house, and she knows it.” But there was affection in his eyes. “So… what brings you to Star City?”

 _You. Her. Us._ “I could ask you the same thing,” Dick said instead.

Roy huffed out an amused breath. “Touché. I don’t know, things have been good with Ollie. I figure it isn’t fair, for him not to be able to see Lian more than a couple times a month. Dinah, too, you know.”

“I—” _I’ll miss having you close,_ Dick had been about to say, but he caught himself in time. “—I guess that makes sense.”

“You look good.” Roy gave him a soft smile. “It’s great to see you again, Dick.”

 _Oh._ Dick smiled back, an exquisite, sharp pain twisting his heart at the words. “You, too,” he answered.

Roy was looking at his hand. “No wedding ring yet? I figured you and Babs-girl would have gotten hitched overseas…” He chuckled. “Then again, it’s you, Mister Romantic. Guess you’d want the full ceremony thing with guests and a chapel and all that, huh. When should I save the date for?”

“Don’t bother,” Dick answered, shrugging. “We broke it off.”

Pretending to be brave for a minute, he met Roy’s eyes as he said it, watching the surprise morph into confusion into something unreadable. “…Oh, um. I’m sorry,” Roy said.

Dick bit his lip. “Are you?”

Roy didn’t dignify that with an answer, which was… fair. Dick sighed. “Sorry. That’s not— I shouldn’t have.” He wondered what he _was_ doing there, exactly. Visiting? Expecting something? After last time? “I think I should go,” he said, standing up. “I’m sorry. It was good to see you, too. Tell Lian—”

“Don’t, Dick.” Roy reached for his hand, but his grip was gentle. “Come on, you just got here. Stay for dinner, at least, huh? …Talk to me. I missed you.”

Dick swallowed. “But I don’t know how to pretend that nothing happened,” he confessed. “I… don’t even know if I want to.”

Roy tugged at him until he turned and met his eyes, all earnestness. “So don’t,” Roy answered, like it was just that simple. Dick laughed under his breath.

“You told me you loved me and I threw it in your face,” he said, part protest, part plea.

“…You know,” Roy whispered, “I’d take this whole… self-sacrificing shtick a hell of a lot more seriously if you weren’t, um.” He slid a meaningful glance at Dick’s hand, and Dick realised, finally, that Roy had let go of him a while ago, but _Dick_ was the one still holding on to Roy’s wrist with tight fingers.

Shit.

He dropped it like he had been burned. Roy sighed. He stood up, and before Dick could stop him, he wrapped his arms around Dick, holding him tight. “…Stop thinking,” Roy said. Dick closed his eyes, basking in the simple comfort of being crowded by Roy’s large frame, the safety, the temptation to just… surrender.

“Stop thinking,” Roy said again. “Stop. Just do what you want. Whatever will make you smile like you used to, I’m good with that, Dick.”

“There you go again, indulging me.” Dick made a sound caught between a laugh and a sniff. He whispered, “…Roy Harper, you are every bad decision I have ever made…”

He could feel Roy smile against his hair. “Baby, I’m the _only_ bad decision you have ever made,” he played along, his voice quiet. “But tell me it isn’t worth it.”

* * *

**now**

Dick made a dissatisfied little sound as he turned in his sleep, some muted noise coming from the next room having woken him up. Reluctantly, he forced his eyes open, stretching a little as he summoned the will to get up and investigate. Not even a day into his recuperation and he was already indulging himself – getting lazy, he thought. Sighing, he sat up on the couch he had been resting on. The empty boxes still strewn all over the floor made him blink.

He and Roy had stopped by the fitness centre, to salvage what they could – which, thanks to Roy’s trick arrow, was a lot. And they were _supposed_ to be packing up, for the temporary move to Seattle, but Dick paid closer attention to the sounds that had woken him up, and finally identified them – muffled drum beats. Shaking his head, he smiled to himself. If the drowsiness from his medication hadn’t forced him to rest, they would probably have finished by now.

He reached for the crutches resting against the armrest, and limped forward in the direction of the music. The living room and the guest bedroom next to it had suffered the least damage, and Dick was grateful; Roy seemed to love those drums, after all. It was hard to figure out if Roy was just playing at random for the sake of practice or if there was an actual song there at first, but when Dick reached the doorway – leaning against it, not wanting to interrupt – he could hear Roy humming under his breath. Was it – _Come On Feel the Noise_? Dick closed his eyes and imagined guitars. Yeah.

“Shit, did I wake you?” The drumming stopped abruptly. Dick smiled.

“What happened to packing?”

“Donna called and yelled my ear off about leaving today, of all days.” Roy sighed. “So it looks like we’ll have to camp out here for now. Or the manor again. Sorry, Pretty Bird, I _had_ something planned for you – like, just the two of us – but, well.”

Dick frowned. _Today, of all days?_ What was the occasion? His confusion must have shown on his face, because Roy stared at him for a quiet minute… and then burst out laughing. “ _Tell_ me you didn’t forget.”

Dick thought hard. Roy’s birthday was in November. They didn’t have an anniversary – they had technically been together for about twelve years or so without labelling it, after all. He gave up. “Forget what?”

“Jesus, how do you manage to be so endearing without even trying?” Still laughing, Roy got off his stool, walked over and steered Dick towards the nearest calendar. March the Twentieth… _oh._

“Happy Birthday, beautiful.” Roy pressed a kiss to the side of Dick’s head. “Looks like we’re not joining the twenty-seven club after all.”

Dick tilted his head back, smiling up at Roy. “Thank you.” He never really had marked the date, before, considering all the _other_ birthdays he had locked in his head – family, friends, family and friends of family and friends. “One step closer to thirty,” he mused; a surreal thought.

“Well. Better than the alternative.”

Dick turned, smirking slightly as he looped his arms around Roy’s neck, letting his crutches fall. “Will you still love me when I’m not so pretty anymore?”

“You always will be in my eyes,” Roy answered without hesitation, smiling and holding Dick’s waist in his hands. “And, hey, one day at a time, right?” He scooped Dick up in his arms bridal-style, coaxing a sharp peal of laughter from him.

“Where are you taking me!?”

Roy grinned. “Knee injuries can be very tricky, you know, Mr. Grayson. Got to stay off of that leg or you might never get to swing off of rooftops ever again.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Dick buried his head in Roy’s neck regardless, smiling and biting back an _I love you._

The presents started arriving at around noon or so. First, a large parcel with a card that announced it to be the “official” Kent family present, along with a smaller parcel from Clark alone – who still signed his cards as _Uncle_ Clark, and showed no hints of ever stopping. “Why two gifts?” Roy asked, curious, while Dick eagerly ripped it open.

“Because he remembers _these_.” Dick popped a long strand of sour-sweet liquorice into his mouth. “I’m not sharing.”

Roy laughed and stole one anyway.

Then a hand-knitted sweater from Steph (the card said _and Cass_ but Cass’ name was also on a true crime novel from Jason, so he wasn’t sure who to believe). A larger-than-usual coffee mug from Barbara, with a card that read: _I can’t stop you from eating your cereal out of a coffee mug I guess but hope this will at least minimise the chances of you flicking your spoon the wrong way and making a mess, Boy Idiot._ Alfred sent him a box of his favourite tea like he’d telepathically known that Dick had run out. Tim came round to deliver his gift in person with, surprisingly, Damian in tow.

“…Not planned, I swear,” Tim said as he handed Dick a wrapped parcel, one wary eye on Damian.

“As though I _would_ , Drake,” Damian returned, folding his arms and glaring.

Tim rolled his eyes. “I can’t stay, but enjoy your day, Dick.”

“ _I’m_ staying,” Damian declared, and promptly threw himself down next to Dick on the couch without asking. Amused, Dick raised an eyebrow. “Then where’s my present?”

Damian smirked. “You’re looking at him.”

Dick laughed and tackled him into the cushions. “I _swear_ you’re getting cheekier by the day and I’m not sure whether to be proud or horrified…”

“Bye, Roy,” Tim called as he left, earning a vague response from the other room.

Dick had been expecting Donna, but when she arrived, it was with Karen, Lilith, Mal, Wally, _and_ Linda. “Nobody said anything about a party,” Dick said, more than a little bummed, that he would be stuck on the couch through it.

Donna kissed him on the cheek. “I thought it would be more efficient to shove _birthday_ and _new Titans inauguration_ into the same day before Roy gets you all to himself.”

“Great to see you again, Dick.” Mal smiled, patting his shoulder.

“…I didn’t know Demon-Robin would be on the guest list,” Wally muttered, eyeing Damian darkly.

“Don’t be an actual child.” Linda leaned down and took Dick’s hand. “Happy Birthday, Dick. This is from us and the kids, they’re sorry they couldn’t make it…”

“Why is there no music? Roy!” Karen stomped her way into the other room like it was her own home.

Before long, somebody’s record player had been unearthed, and Dick sank back into the couch, enjoying the nostalgia that the songs brought with them, while Donna and Wally chattered away. Roy was caught in a heated debate with Mal close to their seat – “Pop punk is an oxymoron, punk _by definition_ is counter-culture, you can’t be counter-culture if you’re _a part_ of predominant popular culture—”

“—No, I hear you, Roy, but you _could_ make the argument that rock started out as anti-establishment, but now most of your rock gods _are_ a part of the establishment, so really pop punk could be a subversion _of_ a subversion—”

“—Yeah, but there is _no way_ you could argue that, Christ, I don’t know, _Bowling for Soup_ or some shit create the same kind of impact as The Clash or Blondie—”

“—But it’s equally ridiculous to say the kids have no true counter-culture music scene, what about Rage Against the Machine or—”

“—Rage Against the Machine was ours _first_ , come on, Killing in the Name came out in like ’91—”

“—Okay, I get the feeling you’re actually more _vehement_ about the fact that rock and roll died with us than bitter about it, Roy…”

Which had absolutely _nothing_ to do with Roy putting on _We Built This City_ to prove a point moments later. Donna caught Dick’s eye, and they struggled to hide laughs.

Garth wandered in at some point, his long hair drenched. “Happy Birthday.” He set a small… something on Dick’s lap. “It glows.”

He never elaborated.

Dick watched him leave, to talk to Lilith, and then offer to _dance_ with Lilith, which, wow, that was new. And then it occurred to him that somewhere amidst all of the ruckus, he had lost sight of Damian. “Give me a minute, would you?” he said, interrupting Donna and Wally mid-sentence. He reached for his crutches, gave Roy a reassuring smile as he hobbled past him, and then into the bedroom. “Damian?” he said it the way it was spelled in Arabic, _Dem-mi-yen_. The way Talia said it.

Damian, who had been hunched over a half-packed box on the floor, glanced up at him, an unreadable expression on his usually scowling face. “Who is this?” he asked, holding up a photograph he’d found.

Dick eased himself down onto the floor, setting his crutches next to him. In the photo, he and Roy were holding Lian between them by her hands so that she could swing off of the ground. Dick smiled, bittersweet. “I keep forgetting you never met her.” He took it from Damian. “This is Lian Harper. Roy’s daughter.” Mostly to himself, “…I wonder if you would have been friends…”

“I have no need for friends. Certainly not from amongst _children_ ,” Damian scoffed.

Dick rolled his eyes. “ _Certainly not._ The Teen Titans are allies, not friends.”

“Precisely.” And then Damian squinted at him, his nose all scrunched up adorably as he did. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Certainly not.”

“I know a thousand different ways to kill you, Grayson.”

“Am _I_ not your friend?” Dick asked, a faux-innocent smile on his face.

“No, you’re my—” Damian stopped himself and turned away with a little huff. “…Nice try.”

Dick laughed, delighted. They sat together in silence, for a moment, before Damian cleared his throat. “Grayson,” he began, and took in a breath, like he was steeling himself. “Richard. …Don’t go to Seattle.”

“What?” Dick blinked. “Why not?”

Damian gave him a serious look. “You don’t _have_ to. Father and I have foiled Strange’s latest plot, so we’ll be home now. You could… simply stay at home.”

Oh.

Dick smiled at him. “I _want_ to go, Damian.”

“Pennyworth said as much when I brought up my concerns with him.” Damian scowled. “So it’s true. You and Harper.”

Dick nodded.

“I don’t like this.” Damian folded his arms. “You haven’t been so far from home since…”

“It’s not like I’ll be in a different continent, and even if I _was_ , what’s the point of being able to afford a private jet if you don’t put it to use?” Dick shook his head. Before Damian could protest, he leaned forward and ruffled his baby brother’s hair. “I’ll be back before you know it, Robin. Promise.”

Damian’s face turned vaguely pink. “Don’t speak as though that would be for _my_ benefit, Grayson, I don’t care either way, you’re the one who’s prone to getting injured for stupid reasons like this—”

“Oh, there you are.” Roy had wandered in, leaning against the doorway with half a grin directed at Damian. “If you’re hungry, kid, pizza’s here.”

Dick stretched both arms out with a playful smile, and Roy sighed, shaking his head. “I meant the _actual_ kid…” But he picked him up anyway.

It was around five or so when they all, finally, dispersed. Linda offered to drop Damian off – despite his protests about how he could look after himself – ignoring that Wally looked nauseous at the very idea. Then it was just Dick and Roy and Donna and Garth, the latter two helping Roy clean up some. Dick, still stuck on the couch, reached for the record player and switched _Jump_ for something mellower.

 _Oh, thinking about all our younger years_ … _there was only you and me, we were young and wild and free_ …

Roy met his eyes as he was clearing up the coffee table, a knowing smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

Dick returned it, mouthing along with the words, _Now, nothing can take you away from me_ … _we’ve been down that road before, but that’s over now_ …

Which seemed to cross the limits of Roy’s self-control – because he dropped whatever he was doing and, in one smooth motion, kissed Dick as he joined him on the couch. Donna made a half-hearted whooping noise, and then she rolled her eyes, laughing to herself. “Come on, Aqualad, let’s give the lovebirds some privacy…”

“…Don’t call me that, Donna, come on…”

“So.” Roy smiled against Dick’s lips. “Ready for your present?”

Dick blinked. “I thought the party was the present.”

“What? Nah, that was Donna’s idea, not mine.” Roy’s eyes were dancing. “ _I_ wanted us on the road already, just you and me…”

“Patience.” Dick kissed him lightly. “Tomorrow, okay?”

Roy reached into the front pocket of his denim jacket. Curious, Dick watched him pull out a piece of paper between two fingers, and his eyes grew wide, as childlike glee crowded his chest – he actually caught his breath. “Roy, you _didn’t_!” A startled laugh escaped him as he took it from Roy. “Oh, there goes your reputation, poor Speedy…”

“Worth it.” Roy chuckled as he kissed Dick on the head. “…Worth it.”

Dick pressed closer to Roy as he carefully unfolded the coloured paper, and read every word – from _Love of mine_ all the way to _Yours for as long as you’ll have me_. Then he read it again, and again for good measure, and then he buried his face in Roy’s chest and tried hard not to cry.

Outside the window, the sky seemed to be doing it for him, and when Donna and Garth re-emerged from the next room it was to say their goodbyes. “Gods, I hate the rain.” Donna clicked her tongue. “Have a safe trip, you two.”

“Take care of each other,” Garth added.

Once they had left, Roy eased away from Dick. “You rest. I’ll finish packing up.”

Dick nodded, grateful. He watched the first spring shower pour down through the window, musing about how warm he was, and what a pleasant day he’d had. Usually, a rainy day in Bludhaven meant… memories, bad, bad memories. Meant there’d be an itch under his skin that he could only satiate by doing things that he hated – like going to bars, and forgetting his name, and waking up the next morning in a stranger’s bed, only to discover that all that self-harm had been for nothing because getting drunk enough to be able to stomach sleeping with someone he didn’t know couldn’t, as it turned out, purge him of _that_.

But he’d do it again the next time it rained.

He reached for his crutches and limped outside. Roy’s letter was safely tucked away under his leather jacket, immune to the drops of water hitting his face as he tilted it up, his eyes closed. He was twenty-eight, now, which meant that waiting for him inside that house was a man who had loved him for almost half of his life.

Loved him _still_ , even though Dick had been… ruined.

A part of him which he’d thought had died when Robin had been taken from him – the part that believed that the universe _was_ ultimately kind and good and just, seemed to revive again, if only for that moment. If nothing else, he had this.

“The party ended ages ago.” Dick said it without opening his eyes. He didn’t even flinch at the rustle of cloth from the roof behind him, turning and smiling, instead. “But there’s still pizza, if you want some.”

“Hm.” Underneath the cowl, Bruce made a sound that was either interest or disinterest or both. “Are you trying to give yourself pneumonia?”

“I like the rain.”

“You never used to.” Bruce was close enough to hug, now, so – figuring that it _was_ his birthday, after all – Dick did. He ignored the sudden tension against him, waited for it to subside and then decided to press his luck a while longer. Thankfully, Bruce was in the mood to indulge him, and Dick welcomed the comfort of the heavy cape essentially sheltering him from the rain as Bruce wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“…Happy Birthday.”

“It is,” Dick agreed, smiling as he pulled away. A gauntleted hand pressed a small parcel into his, but Dick wasn’t interested, this was a present enough.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?”

Dick nodded. “Don’t worry, I negotiated with Red Robin – and Orphan, and Robin. And if they’re too busy, Oracle’s always keeping an eye out. Bludhaven will be in good hands – hold me to it, if I’m wrong.”

Bruce’s silence said that Dick had read his intent wrong, so he waited until Bruce spoke first. “It’s been a long time since you’ve gone so far from home.”

Dick hummed. “Damian said the same thing.” Except with Damian, it probably meant that the kid would miss him, even if he would never admit it. There had been a time when Dick would have assumed the same of Bruce, but now, he wasn’t quite as sure.

Anyway, the manor was always practically full these days, and what was one son missing. Especially a useless one, what with the bum leg.

“A month, is that correct?”

“Yeah—”

Dick cut himself off at the sound of the door opening. He turned; Roy was saying, “What the hell, Dick, are you trying to catch your death—” and then he noticed Bruce, turned pale as a sheet, and added, “…Oh.”

“I’ll be in in a minute, _mon trésor_.”

“…Right.” Roy gave them an awkward smile and disappeared inside again a little too quickly. Bruce sighed. “You couldn’t have chosen any other redhead, could you…”

Dick laughed. And then he turned, his smile still intact, but something firm and serious in his eyes as he faced his father head on. “…I love him, Bruce.” _And I won’t stop. Not even if you asked. I’d give you my life. I won’t give you this._

The message must have gotten across, because Bruce only made that vaguely acknowledging sound again. “No names,” he reminded Dick. And then he fished out his grappling hook and aimed for the roof behind them. “I expect to see you in a month, then.” Quieter, “…Be safe, Dick.”

“No names,” Dick mimicked, smirking. He watched Batman disappear into the night sky. “…I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And cue the curtains! Thank you so much for sticking with this story to the end, you guys, you’ve all been so kind, and more generous than what it warranted. I love you so much. Please leave kudos, bookmark, comment, or subscribe, and also maybe say hi on Tumblr? I’m anelderling.
> 
> Until next time!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue, one year later.

The shadows of the bookshelf twisted and grew with the headlights of every passing car. Doctor Bridget Clancy – sensible, grown woman that she was – swore as the momentary distraction of watching them caused her to stub her toe on the edge of a file cabinet. She had doubled back towards her second-floor office for the car keys that she’d forgotten, and had been in too much of a hurry to bother with the lights. Tonight was the Pre-World Cup World Cup Special, and she’d be damned if she missed it.

A light tapping sound caught her attention, just as she had reached the door, intent on leaving, and she turned, startled. Her first instinct was to grab for the Taser in her handbag, but then she caught a good look at the figure hanging upside-down outside her window. She uncurled her fingers from it, smiling, and with a few quick steps she was soon sliding the window open.

“Mr. Wing.”

Nightwing gave her half a grimace and half a smile in return. “What?” And then, playing along, “Please, call me Night. Mr. Wing is my father. Would you call Superman Mr. Man?”

“How would I know? We’ve never met.” Clancy laughed. “What brings you here?”

He took his customary seat on the windowsill, and had the characteristic decency, at least, to say, “I can leave if this isn’t a good time.”

Clancy gave him a fond smile. Well, football could wait, she thought, placing her handbag on her desk. “No, no, not at all. You’re a priority client.” It wasn’t like her to play favourites, but it was true. She had been the one to seek _him_ out first, concerned for her fellow Bludhaven native in the Big Bad Apple, especially after rumours that he had died during the explosion. But then he’d let something slip during a conversation about his love life. Something about a bad experience.

The rest, as they say, was history.

In a sterner tone, she added, “Where exactly have you been? I thought I said once every month, not once in a blue moon. It isn’t like our sessions cost you anything.”

“I’ve offered—”

“And I’ve declined, but you aren’t answering my question, eh?”

He huffed out an amused breath. “…Sorry. I was undercover for a while, and then I relocated to Bludhaven again.”

“Yes, so I hear.” She pulled a chair up, seating herself opposite him. She couldn’t be sure, what with the mask, but she had the distinct impression that his eyes widened.

“Oh, no, Clancy, I…” He laughed under his breath. “I’m not here to talk to a psychiatrist, I’m here to talk to a friend. I was in town, I thought I’d drop by. Literally. See how you were and all.”

Clancy blinked. “Oh.” Nice of him. “I’m alright. Would you believe that you aren’t the only cape who’s been in this office? Did you have something to do with that?”

“Guilty as charged.” He gave her a smile. “I just recommended the best doctor I know to people who needed it, that’s all.”

“The best, huh.” She snorted. “That’s a stretch, but I appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He paused. “…And I took your advice. I told someone.” A small smile. “I’m seeing someone.”

She returned it, pleased and proud of him all at once. “Those two things are connected, I’m assuming?”

He nodded. His body language said it all, really, loose and free for once instead of all wound up like a leopard ready to pounce. “Thank you, Clancy,” he said. “It would never have been possible without you. For me to be able to trust someone with that kind of intimacy again.”

She beamed at him. It was a reminder of why she’d chosen her profession in the first place, and the validation was heady. “I told you, didn’t I?” she said, soft and kind. “What happened to you does not, has not, and will never dictate your worth.”

He made a musing sound. “My partner, they… they gave me a lot of space to find that trust again, and I think… I don’t know. I needed that.”

“You’re happy?”

“I’m on cloud nine.” He smiled. “Thank you. Really. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back.”

Clancy grinned. “How about letting me see under that mask?”

He laughed. “That’s my cue to go, I think. Take good care of yourself, doc.”

And then, he was gone. Clancy smiled to herself, unable to shake the feeling of warmth that came with knowing that the work she did paid off, that she actually helped somebody recover from one of the most horrific things that could happen to a person – superhero or not. She reached for her handbag and made for the door again, still smiling as she exited the building.

She passed the first alleyway next to the hospital, and stopped abruptly. “Dick? Dick Grayson!”

One of two men evidently lost in conversation by a motorcycle glanced up, eyes wide. “Clancy? Is that you?”

She ran to her old friend, hugging him. It was a day for pleasant surprises, apparently. “You were in New York and you couldnae call?”

“Sorry. Clance, you remember Roy.”

“Of Police Academy fame, of course. I wouldnae forget.” She held out a hand to Dick’s companion with an amiable smile, and he took it. “And I believe you promised me a drink once.”

“Did I?” Roy smiled back. “Well, if you’re still single.” Dick cleared his throat and edged closer to his friend, placing his hand on Roy’s arm – easy enough to mistake as a casual gesture, but too deliberate to really be one, Clancy observed, a little confused. Roy cut himself short, and then continued. “—I, uh, hope someone else makes good on that promise, because I most definitely am not. Single. That is.”

“…Right.” Clancy said, nonplussed. She turned to Dick again. “We should get together sometime, yeah?”

“We should. I’ll call you.”

“Alright, then. Have a good one!” She waved goodbye, heading off for a taxi home.

“Really?” Dick arched an eyebrow as soon as Clancy had left.

Roy shrugged, leaning against the motorcycle, a sheepish smile on his face. “Force of habit?”

“Mm-hmm. Sure.” Dick snorted, unimpressed. “Eyes on _me_ , I said.”

He reached for his helmet. When he turned around again, he caught Roy watching him – with that look in his eyes that he got, sometimes, when he thought Dick wasn’t looking. Something soft, and faraway. It always tugged at his heartstrings. Dick smiled. “I didn’t mean _literally_.”

The words seemed to surprise Roy out of his reverie, and he reached for Dick’s wrist, pulling him closer, and pressing their lips together in one smooth motion. Dick still marvelled at this, at the simplicity of it. That a kiss didn’t need to come with strings attached. That he had nothing to be afraid of in Roy’s arms. That he never felt helpless.

In a couple months’ time, Roy would pull a disappearing act because of a cat, of all the stupid reasons. The injured stray would find its way into their home, get patched up, and somehow stay. It would be the concept of the cat more than the cat itself, of course, but Roy would eventually freak out and just leave, no note, no warning.

But he’d come back. And they’d get through it.

In a couple months’ time, Dick would take on a case so twisted it would torture his mind, and he’d snap at the smallest thing almost like he was daring Roy to give up on him and go. Convinced, somehow, that Roy wouldn’t be able to save him a second time.

But Roy would. And they’d get through it.

Dick kissed him back, and it was languid and sweet, like they had all the time in the world – even though they were caught in a never-ending war and they didn’t. But fuck the rules. Experience proved they were allowed miracles.

Roy looped an arm around his waist and whispered against his lips, “Want to head home?”

“I am home,” Dick answered, holding on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos, bookmarked, or commented on this fic! You can absolutely make stuff based on it, whether that is art, edits, playlists, remixes, or translations. Just don’t forget to share them with me as well!
> 
> À bientôt!
> 
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